#the teeth will keep biting and the hands will keep holding

[luna-azzurra]

Character Movements #1

╰ Sighing

Not just “he sighed.” That’s lazy. Give us the why behind the air. Is it the kind of sigh that deflates their whole chest, like they’ve been holding the world on their lungs? Or one sharp exhale through the nose, all frustration and fed-up energy? Maybe it’s quiet—barely audible. Maybe they don’t even realize they’re doing it. But the room shifts a little when they do. Sighs can mean “I give up,” or “finally,” or “not this sh*t again.” Just depends on what’s dragging at their ribs.

╰ Shivering

This isn’t just about cold. A character can shiver in a warm room if they’re scared enough. Maybe their skin prickles before it starts, like tiny goosebumps racing up their arms. Maybe it hits in a full-body tremble, their breath catching like something primal in them just screamed “danger.” Or maybe it’s subtle, like a soft internal quake they’re trying not to show. It’s the kind of movement that betrays the truth they won’t say out loud.

╰ Trembling Hands

Shaking hands are so intimate. They’re not dramatic—they’re revealing. It’s the way their fingers fumble to light a cigarette. The way they have to tuck their hands under their thighs so no one sees. Maybe they keep reaching for the glass but can’t quite get a grip. Or maybe they do grip and the tremor runs through the whole glass like a warning. It’s not about the shake. It’s about the fact they wish they weren’t shaking at all.

╰ Clenching Fists

This one? Its tension incarnate. And it doesn’t always mean someone’s about to punch something. Sometimes they ball their fists just to keep from crying. Or because they’re trying so hard not to say something they’ll regret. Look for the subtleties: white knuckles, nails digging into palms, fists flexing open and closed like they’re trying to wring out emotion. It’s control. Rage. Determination. Or the act of stuffing all that inside a cage of fingers.

╰ Biting Nails

It’s more than “they’re nervous.” It’s compulsion. Habit. A survival tic. They might not even realize they’re doing it—just fingers to mouth, chewing down without looking, like their body’s trying to chew through the waiting. Maybe their nails are ragged. Maybe they flinch when they bite too deep. Maybe it’s the sound, the soft click of teeth and nail in a dead-silent room. It’s vulnerability dressed up as fidgeting.

╰ Tapping Fingers

This is the soundtrack of a restless mind. Is the rhythm sharp? Fast? Jittery? Are they tapping with one finger like a countdown—or all five, like a rainstorm on the table? They might not even notice. But other people do. Someone asks them to stop, and they bristle. Or they stop mid-tap when someone says the wrong thing, and that silence? That silence is loud. Tapping fingers are rarely idle. They’re keeping time with the character’s thoughts.

╰ Pacing

Pacing isn’t just walking back and forth—it’s the body trying to outrun a thought. They stand. They sit. They stand again. They move because stillness feels like being buried alive. Maybe their footsteps are soft, barefoot across carpet. Or hard-soled and echoing through a hallway like a threat. Maybe they walk a perfect loop, over and over. Maybe it’s erratic, jerking toward the door, away, toward again. Their mind is spinning, and their body’s just trying to keep up.

╰ Slumping Shoulders

This isn’t just a posture change—it’s the moment the weight wins. Shoulders that sag say “I lost.” Or “I’m done.” Or “Please don’t ask me to care anymore.” Maybe they slump in a chair and stare at the floor. Maybe they’re standing, but something in them folds anyway. Their spine’s still straight, but their shoulders fall like scaffolding giving way.

╰ Tilting Head

Simple movement—loaded meaning. They tilt their head when someone says something that doesn’t quite click. Or when they’re trying to listen harder, like angling their body will help them hear the truth under the words. Maybe the tilt is sharp and skeptical, like “You sure about that?” Or soft and curious, like “I’m trying to understand.” Or just a little too slow, too drawn out—like a predator sizing up prey. It’s instinctual. And it always means they’re paying attention.

╰ Rubbing Temples

This one screams I’m trying to hold it together. It might be frustration. Migraine. Bone-deep exhaustion. They press fingers to their temples like they’re physically trying to squash the problem before it leaks further into their head. Maybe their fingers circle gently, trying to soothe themselves. Maybe it’s two fingers, firm pressure, eyes closed, jaw clenched. It’s the gesture of someone whose brain won’t shut up—and whose body knows it.

[authorhjk1]

Girlfriend

(SuA X Male Reader) Word count: 2966 words

You watch with open eyes. SuA's hands open your belt agonizingly slow. You let out a shakey breath as she looks up at you. That blonde hair looks good on her and you have to hold yourself back from trying to touch it.

"You don't have to do this. It was just a joke."

"A joke?"

SuA chuckles as she pulls down your pants and exposes your boxers.

The two of you are in the living room of Dreamcatcher's dorm. You're sitting on their couch, while SuA is kneeling in front of you.

"I don't consider this a joke."

She gently places her hand flat on your underwear, now able to feel your cock against her palm through the thin material.

"I was going to set this rule for myself anyway."

She continues to carefully rub your cock while looking up at you.

"I'm going to give my boyfriend head every single day. No exceptions."

You hear your breath hitch and SuA smirks.

"You like the idea? You want me to suck your cock every day?"

You quickly nod, slowly falling into her trance.

"Good boy."

She murmurs as she leans down to give your clothed cock a kiss on the tip. Goosebumps build on your skin as you feel her carefully nudging your cock with her nose, her hands now flat on your thighs.

"Of course..."

SuA interrupts herself to place her tongue on your boxers, right on your tip, before she drags it slowly towards the base.

"You can ask for more if you want them."

She now backs up again, letting her tongue move from your base to your tip. You almost let out a needy whine as you try to control yourself. At this pace you're afraid she's going to make you bust inside your boxers.

"One a day is just the bare minimum I set for myself."

You feel SuA's fingers slowly drawing patterns on your naked thighs as she now delivers small pecks to your clothed cock.

"So, this is just-just purely hypothetic-hypothetical..."

You take a deep breath, to keep it together. But you're afraid her answer to your incoming question might make you cum without her even needing to touch you.

"...if I'd ask you to give me a blowjob ten times a day..."

The pitch in your voice rises as SuA wraps her lips around the tip of your clothed cock. She doesn't let you finish your question by letting her tongue swirl around it. You have to close your eyes. You have to think of something else.

When she finally stops, she looks back up at you as you open your eyes again.

"If you want ten, you can have ten."

Her smile is both assuring and teasing at the same time. As if she's saying that she'd love to blow you ten times a day, but also knew you were gonna ask her for more.

"Are you serious?"

You ask in disbelief, still unable to properly comprehend what SuA is saying.

"Of course, honey."

Her hands still rest on your thigh, so now she leans forward, close toward the waistband of your boxers.

"Anytime, anywhere."

Before you can react, she bites into your waistband and starts to tug at your boxers. You instinctively lift your hips off the couch and SuA uses her teeth to take your underwear off completely.

Once she freed your cock, she wraps both hands around it. Your girlfriend seems to admire your dick as she gives you a couple of gentle strokes.

"I just want you to feel good, baby. But I have to admit it's not the only reason."

SuA places her tongue on your tip and slowly drags it down to your base again. Without your boxers in the way, it makes your head spin.

"I just love sucking your cock. It's so delicious."

She moves her tongue along your dick back up to your tip. While one hand now strokes your base, the other tugs a strand of blonde hair behind her ear.

"I genuinely wouldn't mind giving you head ten times a day."

And with that, SuA finally tales your cock into her mouth. Her wet lips close around your tip and you feel yourself sinking further into the couch. Her tongue teases your tip by gently flicking against it, before swirling around your head. Then she starts to take more. Your head falls back as her lips glide down your shaft. You feel her tongue pressed against the underside of your length while the hand that is not holding your cock is now gently cupping your balls.

"SuA..."

You groan her name, which only urges her on more. When her lips finally meet her hand, you feel your tip just reaching the back of her mouth. Just a little more and she would take you down her throat. The thought of being inside her throat is enough for you to shift around. Silently praying that SuA will go all out.

But instead of moving her hand out of the way and taking you in deeper, she lifts her head off your cock, her lips gliding along your length. Once her mouth leaves your cock, she looks up at you, while she continues to stroke your base.

"You just taste so good. I don't know if I can control myself."

Without giving you time to answer, SuA dives back in. This time a little more aggressive. Her lips wrap around your cock once more and soon her head is bobbing up and down your shaft. Her lips are tightly sealed around you, while her tongue is pressed flat against the underside of your cock. Whenever you are about to hit the back of her mouth your breath hitches, which SuA definitely notices. She moves her hand from her balls to your thigh, gently caressing it as if she's trying to calm you down.

As your girlfriend picks up the pace a little, your head rolls back and you melt further into the couch. You can't believe how good she is at giving head. The prospect of feeling like this every day makes goosebumps appear all over your skin. You wonder what life would be like if you woke up like this every morning. Your just open your eyes and there she is, lying between your legs and sucking you off.

"SuA..."

You groan her name again and definitely not for the last time. You swear you can almost feel her smile around your cock. With your right hand you reach out to her. Some of her hair has fallen in front of her face and so you push back the blonde strands behind her ear. You keep your hand on the side of her face, almost as if you're guiding her movements. But you both know who's in control here. SuA has the power to do with you what ever she wants. Her own hand is now reaching upwards, diving underneath your shirt and exploring the rest of your body.

After a while, she retreats once more, letting your cock escape her mouth. It's now slick with her spit and with a satisfied grin she looks up at you.

"Do you like that? Do you want me to continue sucking your cock?"

You quickly nod your head, which makes SuA laugh.

"How bad do you want mouth, baby? Do you want to feel all over your dick?"

"Yes. Oh god, SuA..."

You groan as she continues to stroke your cock while she talks.

"I love it when you say my name while my mouth is stuffed with your cock. I want to take care of you. Make you moan, whine, beg for my mouth."

It's a mixture of prophecy and empty dirty talk. The thought of you begging SuA to suck your cock turns on both of you.

"Your cock looks so good when it's all wet with my spit. And it feels so good, doesn't it?"

"Yes...Yes, it does."

SuA smiles and then you watch her gathering some saliva in her mouth. She spits on your cock, her warm saliva joining the spit from before. Her fingers immediately start to spread it everywhere.

"Mmmmh. It just looks so tasty."

She hums in satisfaction, her eyes focused on your cock.

Your breath hitches when you feel her letting go of your dick. Both of her hands rest on your thighs and your heartbeat quickens. SuA looks up at you one more time, a knowing smile playing around her lips. She can tell how desperate you are by now and she hesitates just a second longer, before she finally wraps her lips around your cock once more. This time she glides along your length hands free. Her lips travel further and further. She reaches the point she stopped at before, but now she keeps going.

"Oh fuck."

You groan as you feel your swollen tip push against the back of her mouth until it finds her throat passage. It's a soft squishiness. First it's hard, then softer. And then you reach her tighter, more sensitive passage which is her throat.

"SuA..."

This time it's more whine than groan. She continues to take more of you down your throat. You feel her wet tightness around you. Then she stops, right before your base. You barely have the brain capacity to wonder if she is playing with you or if she genuinely has reached her limit. Your head spins either way and you have to hold onto the couch with both hands.

"Oh fuck..."

You feel her sneaky little tongue move against your cock, while SuA still doesn't move back and forth. You hear her breathing through her nose. Your fingers can't hold it anymore. You have to get rid of that relentless pleasure somehow. Your nails drag across the couch, which is almost the only sounds in the room. For just a second her head moves and she lets out a quick gag. You guess she had to laugh at your antics and lost control for a split second. But that gag made her throat tighten even more around your cock. You're breathing heavily by now, closing your eyes while you try to start to fight off your building orgasm.

Finally SuA retreats again. Slow. Painfully slow. Her lips and her tongue are still glued to your shaft as she moves back. She reveals inch after inch of your saliva drenched cock, until she finally lets it fall out of her mouth. Your tip is whiter than usual, probably due to it being in her throat.

"That was so hot."

She says while wiping some of her spit off her chin.

"If you need something to hold onto you can hold my head or grab my hair."

SuA's cheeky comment almost makes you groan in response. Her smirk tells you taht she knows what affect her words have on you.

Then, she lowers her head once more. Her lips glide along your length. She quickly reaches her last point again. Your tip brushes against the back of her mouth, until it finds her throat. You feel her forcing herself further down. SuA takes more of you and then she suddenly gags. The feeling only speeds up your orgasm's build up. But it also forces you back out of her throat. Instead of giving up, SuA dives right back in. She takes you deeper, but more slowly. You hear her choke on her own spit.

"Oh god..."

Your eyes roll to the back of your head and you instinctively reach outh to grab a fistful of her hair. The blonde strands feel like silk between your fingers. It feels amazing, but it's nothing compared to her throat squeezing around the upper part of your cock.

After a few more gags, SuA's lips eventually reach your base. Once more she stays in place. She doesn't move. You hear her breath through her nose, just like before. And once again, her tongue starts to move. She tries to open her mouth even further and you're afraid she is going to break her jaw. But then her tongue slips out of her mouth, almost like she's a snake. Its end brushes against your balls. It's not exactly the feeling of it, but more the act it's that melts your brain. You can't believe your girlfriend is deepthroating your entire cock while her tongue is licking your nuts.

"Oh good...."

You can't stop groaning and your second hand joins the first. You're barely aware that you're pushing her head down, but you expect her to tap your thigh if she can't take it anymore. You feel your orgasm building and building. You know it isn't far off anymore. Your body becomes weak and soon SuA's head pushes against your hands. But instead of entirely retreating again, she only lifts her head, until your tip threatens to slip out of her throat. Then she lowers herself again, until she reaches your base, letting out a gag here and there. Soon she has settled into a steady rhythm. Up and down. Up and down. Your cock is being squeezed tightly by her warm, wet throat. You feel her nails dig into your thighs, but your hands are only loosely holding onto her hair. You don't even have the strength anymore to push her head down.

As she continues to deepthroat you, you feel a familiar knot building in your stomach. Unfortunately, you won't be able to hold on for much longer. Your cock hardens just a little more, which makes SuA moan around your cock in appreciation. The hum of her moan sends shivers through your cock and into your spine. You have to hold yourself back from thrusting further into her throat.

"SuA..."

You groan, trying to warn her.

She listens after going up and down one last time. Then she begins to retreat fully. You let out another groan as you see your so it covered cock. Strings of saliva connect the insides of her mouth with your shaft, until it finally falls out of her mouth again. Your tip is white once more. When she looks up at you her eyes are glistening. A single tear is rolling down her cheek.

"Oh my god, SuA....I'm about to cum..."

She smiles at you, almost devilishly. She wraps her hand around your wet cock once more.

"Where do you want to cum, baby?"

Her voice is slightly hoarse, but that only turns you on even more.

You honestly can't decide for a moment. You're tempted to ruin her hair. Or cum dow her throat. But the way she smiles at you, occasionally glancing at your cock, while she strokes it finally makes you decide.

"Your face."

You manage to say and you watch how SuA's smile grows wider.

"You want to cum on my face, baby?"

You nod, unable to reply when her hand picks up the pace. You can even hear it, due to all of the saliva coating your cock. That wet sound as her fingers move up and down.

"You want to paint it? Make it look pretty?"

You let out a deep, long sigh. You feel your legs shaking a little.

"Or do you want to ruin it? Cover it in your cum?"

You wish you could tell her that her face cannot be ruined. That she'll always look beautiful. No matter how heavy her face is covered in cum. But you can't. Your incoming orgasm prevents you from speaking. But SuA's eyes are locked on yours and it almost feels like she can tell what you want to say.

"Give it to me, baby. Let go of your cum. Don't hold back."

Her pace quickens once more. You feel your cock pulsating under her fingers.

"Oh god..."

You let out a loud groan. Your loudest so far. You force yourself to watch as SuA closes her mouth, tightly pressing her lips together. You wanted to cum on her face, so she makes sure that that's what's gonna happen. Can't be waisting anything for her to taste yet.

Your cum hits her face in several ropes, one after another. It paints her nose, one of her closed eyes and her lips. A particularly long shot even stains her blonde hair. Your whole body is shaking as you watch your girlfriend taking your cum on her face. Like you predicted, she looks so beautiful.

Once you're completely spent, SuA carefully opens her eyes. The cum that landed on her eyelid is now making it's way down her cheek on the path her tear made earlier. She opens her mouth and licks her lips, cleaning them of your cum. SuA moans in satisfaction and then leans forward to capture your tip with her mouth once more.

You groan as you feel her cleaning your cock. You reach out to hold her hair back. You flinch occasionally, your cock now a little too sensitive for her tongue. You expect her to stop, but SuA continues on and on. Only after a minute or two do you realize that SuA has basically started round 2 by herself.

"SuA, what are you doing? You don't have to..."

You get interrupted by your own groan.

Then she finally lets go off your cock.

"You were asking for 10 blowjobs earlier."

You're about to explain to her that it was just a theoretical question. But her smirk makes you realize that she's interpreting your words differently on purpose.

"And it's already 5 pm. It's gonna be tight."

Her emphasis on the word tight doesn't go unnoticed. Your breath hitches involuntarily.

"But I'm sure we will make it."

SuA reaches out with her free hand and pushes you back against the backrest.

"Just lean back and enjoy yourself, baby."

[vampzity]

yunho loves the smell of your perfume.

it’s sweet, it’s fruity, it’s.. seductive. it could’ve been hours since you sprayed it and yet it would still linger as if you were in the room. though it didn’t just linger in the air, oh no. it was on your clothes, the bed sheets, and sometimes even on his own clothing. he didn’t complain. it might’ve been an overpowering or intense smell to others, but to him it was everything. it was invigorating, intoxicating.

he just wanted to tear you apart every time he got a whiff.

you had just gotten out of the shower, wrapped in a robe as you sat in front of the vanity doing your makeup. you planned to go out with your friends later on, as it’s been some time since you’ve all seen each other. it was your birthday after all, and they made plans to take you out for dinner.

you reached for your normal perfume, spritzing it on your pulse points; both sides of your neck, your wrists and the back of your ankles. since you were going out, you wanted it to last a bit longer, so you sprayed a bit behind your ears and on your collarbone.

yunho walked into the room as you did this, the sweet smell hitting him almost instantly. he was met with your semi-naked body; nothing but a simple laced pair under your robe keeping you from being fully exposed to him.

“happy birthday baby.”

he dropped his bags by the door, coming over to you and giving you a small peck on your cheek. the vanilla scent swept under his nose, following him as he stood back up from being hunched over. your smell alone was enough to send him over the edge, it made him go crazy.

only now, he was fighting every urge to not eat you.

he kept his hands at your shoulders— an attempt to ground himself, as he watched you do your makeup. you were so clueless, so innocent minded to knowing how insane you made him. how a smell like that made him want to sink his teeth into your skin until you cried.

“what time are you leaving?”

you applied a bit of blush to your cheeks, blending it out softly.

“hmm, maybe 6:30. why?”

he glanced at the analog clock in your vanity— 4:34 pm. surely that would be enough time right? work had him swamped for your special day, but it didn’t mean he couldn’t do at least something to make you feel special. after all, you’d have him to yourself tomorrow.

you looked back at him for a split second, brow raised as you tried to read his blank stare.

“watcha thinking about?” you began to apply a bit of blush, deciding to brush it off as nothing.

he gave it a moment of thought, pondering on whether or not it was a good idea. except he didn’t need to think, he knew what he wanted and he wasn’t going to let a bit of doubt stop him.

“you,”

yunho leaned over, his lips brushing by your neck softly as he began to place small kisses along your skin.

“and that sweet smell that’s lingering on your skin.”

your breath hitched at his actions, pausing what you were doing when his eyes met yours in the mirror. his hands explored your torso, undoing the already loose tie and exposing any uncovered flesh underneath. he watched the rob fall off your shoulders slightly, the strap of your bra holding your breasts in place nicely.

you felt his lips travel from your neck down to your shoulder as he slipped his hands behind your back, undoing the clasp of your bra. he pulled it off your shoulders, watching them perk up in the mirror. your face flushed red, feeling his hands fondle with them softly as your nipples danced between his fingertips.

“i just want to eat you alive.”

he felt your body shudder as his tongue grazed along your skin. he toyed with your nipples, his teeth taking small bites out of your neck. your soft whimpers filled the room, making him twitch in his pants.

yunho pulled you out of the chair and walked you over to your shared bed, taking a seat. his hands rested at your waist as he admired you, standing in merely just underwear in front of him. his long fingers kneaded into your sides as he leaned in, his breath bouncing off of your chest.

“need you so bad baby.”

you felt your body tense as he pressed his lips against your chest, a small trail of kisses being left until he reached your nipple. he suckled against the sensitive bud, desperate to get a reaction out of you before flicking the same area.

yunho tugged at your underwear before he lay against the bed, pulling your arm toward him slightly. he gave you a small look, watching your face burn red with heat.

“c’mere.. wanna taste you.”

you did as you were told, letting your underwear drop to your ankles before climbing on top of him. his pupils were blown as he was greedy to get a taste out of you, watching your cunt hover above him. his finger slid through your folds, spreading you apart slightly to watch the small mess he made.

he pulled you down onto his face, his tongue sinking into your wet cunt. you threw your head back, rolling your hips slightly to create friction between your bud and his nose. yunho could die just like this, having you ride his face mercilessly as he lapped up your sweet juices. the soft scent of your perfume filling his nose with every gesture you made against him.

“fuck.. yunho..”

you ran your fingers through his black locks, feeling his tongue dipping in and out of you. he looked up at you, watching your tits move in motion with your free hand coming up to grab at one of them.

it was so good. so so good. you’ve never seen yunho this insane for you— you’ve never felt the way you did in that moment. his plump lips kissed at your folds as he sucked against them, tongue still teasing your entrance. you felt his nose shake against your bud, sending a shock of pleasure up your back as you tried not to squish his head.

yunho noticed this, using his hands to push your legs against his ears. he didn’t care if you damn near killed him— in this moment he was satisfied, and all he cared for was satisfying you. his tongue worked tirelessly around your pussy, switching between flicking at your bean and teasing your tight entrance.

“oh my god,” you felt your thighs grow wet with slick as you rode his face faster, your climax growing intensely.

“fuck yunho.. please, don’t stop.

like hell he ever would. you leaned over him, using your arms to hold you up as your motions became more frantic. yunho slid his hand under you, sticking two of his fingers into your aching hole. a soft cry escaped you, feeling his fingers curl as he pumped them inside of you. his tongue flicked at your sensitive nerves, sucking against it whenever he hit your sweet spot.

“gonna cum f’me pretty girl?”

you let out a breathless yes, pushing your cunt against his fingers as you were desperate to finish. yunho nipped at your clit, swirling his tongue around it and altering between the two. you were sure that at this rate, your neighbors could hear your cries and whimpers, as the walls in your apartment complex were pretty thin.

though, that’ll be dealt with later.

within seconds you came undone, feeling your body heat up with immense pleasure. yunho’s tongue slid between your folds, desperate to get a bit of your sweet taste he was so obsessed with. you sat back up, watching as he happily massaged your bud with his tongue, making you jump from overstimulation as you begged him to stop.

he obeyed, letting you get off of him. you watched his eyes light up as your juices leaked down his chin slowly. he sucked the bit of you off his fingers, sighing happily to himself. he sat up, pulling you toward him and hugging you tightly. he pressed his ear up against your chest, soothing himself with the sound of your quick heartbeat.

“fuck, i can never get enough of you.”

yunho kissed at your breasts lightly, his thumb caressing your waist. he looked up at you with soft eyes, giving you a warm smile as you looked away shyly.

“okay okay, i’ll let you get ready.”

he let go of you, watching you put back on your robe and walk toward the bathroom to freshen up once again. yunho ran his hand along his clothed cock, a soft groan escaping him as it remained hardened.

“any second longer and you would’ve cancelled on your friends because i ruined that pretty makeup of yours.”

💌: this was supposed to be posted for my birthday but like im horrible at getting things done on time ngl… happy late bday to me? side note: i also LOVEEE black opium. it’s one of my favs

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[unholyhelbig]

i will be patiently (not really) waiting for that sinners fic

Title: All You've Ever Known [18+] | Main Masterlist

Ship: Female!Reader x Mary (Sinners 2025)

Summary: When Mary walks into your bar she carries a strange and alluring prescence with her that you can't deny attracts you. She offers you an escape that's much more tantalizing that you'd like to admit.

Dt💕: @luciferdidwhat, @thinking1bee @cum-cowboy

Warnings: Blood, biting, cannon-typical violence, pet names (Darling, sweet girl, all the fun southern dialects), fingering (R receiving), slight dom/sub tones, use of good girl, blood drinking, implied death, fire, drinking, and horrible grammar, I don't proofread.

[A/n: God, the obsession I have with Mary is unmatched. I'm convinced this woman would actually be a gentle lover if the mood called for it. This didn't call for it. Anyway, Hailee is for the girls, and mean domme Hailee is even more for the girls.]

In hindsight, the “All Are Welcome” sign on the front door was a stupid idea. The sentiment brought customers, travelers along the stretch of dusty road that needed a cold drink after a long, hot day. It’d worked well enough to break even, and breaking even was all you needed in the summers, a little more in the winters when the temperatures began to drop and the place needed to be heated, but you hadn’t owned it long enough to brave the season yet. 

It was a technicality, really, that Mary could cross the threshold but a technicality all the same. She’d caught the low golden glow of the oil lamps in pooled brown eyes, so dark they were almost black. Animalistic in their swiftness. Her shoulders were pulled taut as if she belonged there, but no one quite did and that struck you as odd right off the bat. Her familiarity with the unfamiliar. 

She analyzed the one-roomed bar with an heir of lazy judgement: The few scattered tables and mismatched chairs, the scratched discolored pool table near the back wall, and the juke-box that gave off an unnaturally dull glow. The music that hummed from the  speakers tinny and harsh. Finally to the shiplap bar that you stood behind, backing lined with the finer liquor, just a few half drunk bottles of whiskey, while the tap held nothing but piss-poor ale, warm as the summer night. 

Tonight, you weren’t alone. A rare occurrence, a traveler from Albuquerque was settled on a cracked stool at one end of the bar, nursing a glass of bourbon and shoving his meaty fingers into a bowl of shelled peanuts. He wasn’t much for small talk. His hair was greasy and his teeth were cracked and it took him two business days to chew one morsel of food out of choice, not necessity, so you let him be. 

Mary was dressed smartly, a delicate silk button-down tucked into pants that came up to her midriff. They worked in favor of her figure, perfectly manicured fingers gripping a clutch that was sure to hold countless riches, certainly more than what was in your register now. Her hair cut off right above her shoulders, perfectly curled, perfectly smooth. 

“Got anything good to drink around here?” Her voice was like velvet, sharp as a knife. Heels clicking on the floor as she crossed it and leaned heavily on the counter. 

“Depends,” 

She lifted a perfectly sculpted eyebrow at you. Up closer you swore there was a metallic element to her eyes, to her scent even, like gun polish. But she was ethereal all the same. Alluring in a way that you couldn’t place. You had no trouble keeping your gaze on her, but hers darted to the man at the other end of the bar, nose crinkling in the slightest degree. “On?” 

“Your standards. You seem like a woman of fine taste.” 

“Better than that horrible music you have playing,” She smiled, teeth sharp but startlingly white “taste don’t bother me none, as long as it’s cold.” 

You gestured vaguely to a stool and she took one with no qualms. The man at the other end of the counter dove his hand back into the basket of peanuts and shoved whatever he could grab into his mouth. He eyed the woman with caution, stare narrowed and lip snarled back like he knew something you didn’t. She didn’t falter. 

You grabbed a bottle of dark ale from below the counter, frosty, a reprieve from the stiff night air, and cracked it on the corner of the beveled counter. When you handed it over, your fingers brushed. You weren’t proud of yourself but you jerked back. You held your judgements well and your tongue better, but her touch was frigid, worse than the ice you’d just plunged your hand into. 

She took mercy on you, didn’t mention your adverse reaction. “Thank you kindly.” Taking a sip of her drink, cringing in the most beautiful way you’d ever seen. “This is… bad.” 

“It’s cold,” You offered with a nervous smile. 

She smiled back, reserved “That it is. What’s a pretty girl like you doing working in a place like this?” 

The man at the end of the counter scoffed under his breath, but neither of you paid him mind. You were taken aback by the fluidity of her comment. Usually they came from the opposite sex and after a few more sips of shitty beer. She had no issues leaning on the palm of her hand, closer to you, eyes just a hint darker. 

You threw a rag over your shoulder, the weight of it familiar and grounding. “Usually what happens when your daddy up and dies and leaves a place like this behind.” 

“Didn’t mean anything by it, sweet thing. No other family to take over the business?” 

“Just me.” 

Perhaps it was the wrong thing to say, but you were close enough to town and there was a loaded rifle within your reach, not that you could particularly bring yourself to shoot anyone with it. Another scoff (or perhaps he was choking on his last handful of peanuts) from the man at the other end of the bar stirred some annoyance within you. Not enough to say anything, though. You wanted his money, regardless of his manners. 

He seemed to sense the shift in energy because Albuquerque fished some damp dollar bills from his pocket and deposited the crumpled prize on the table before grunting behind greasy bangs and slow walking a good three feet behind the strange, beautiful woman. Closer to the tables than he was to the bar. His boots were heavier than his gait. 

The woman didn’t seem to mind his odd behavior, taking another slow sip of her drink, but you tracked him with your eyes until he was gone. When it had been just the two of you, there was no threat detected in the air. Not by you, at least. But the added presence of another woman changed things. Not just any woman. Her. Something about her. 

“Odd fellow,” You took the glass from his spot, deposited it into the nearest plastic bin and dumped the basket of peanuts. Unsalvageable. You wanted to busy yourself under her tender gaze. “But money is money.” 

“Is that what interests you?” 

The question caught you off guard. Made you pause before you answered her. You grabbed your own glass and poured some clear liquid to cover the bottom. Odorless but with enough bite to light up your stomach. “It didn’t used to be. Existing was enough, enjoying the simple things of life. But, now I have this place.” 

“There legacy behind it?” she leaned forward and your eyes met her own. They’d softened somewhere along the line. You’d gotten closer too. No one ever asked you about yourself, hadn’t since they made you sign the black line attributed to your fathers will and that was limited to your legal name and date of birth. Even that had made you uncomfortable. But this woman dragged it out of you, simple like hot honey spread across freshly baked bread. “What I mean is, would it be so bad to let it go?” 

“My daddy’s daddy owned it, and his daddy before that. It used to be a lot nicer than this, if you can believe it. Then the depression hit and a lot of dust got dragged in. A lot of blood too. It’s not much but I had Christmas’s here, Thanksgivings and Easters. There’s a room in the back where I sleep, live and eat. It’s all I’ve ever known.” 

She hummed thoughtfully, lilting her head to the side, resting her chin on the lip of the bottle. It was as if she were scrutinizing you. “All you’ve ever known, huh?” 

“All I’ve ever known.” 

You don’t exactly know when Mary gets you to cross the threshold of the bar, nor do you recall when she whispers her name hotly against your lips, you just know she’s suddenly the only thing there. Her strangely metallic and floral scent, and cold touch balancing into something delicious and alluring. The crispness of her touch didn’t dissuade you, her lips were warm against your own and the taste of the vodka you’d consumed mingled toxically with something primal in her own mouth as she licked into it. 

Mary was not gentle, nor rough in her ministrations. She kissed against the corner of your lips and then across the expanse of your jaw, hands tangled into your hair, breaths panted hot on your skin. “What’s your name, darlin?” 

“Should have asked that before,” You countered, dragging your nails down the exposed skin of her chest, perfect and unmarred. You found the pearlescent button at the top of soft silk, you couldn’t get full thoughts out, not with the way she was touching you. “You had your tongue down my throat.” 

Mary smiled against your skin, genuine this time, the action peaked. “Let me have it and I’ll sing it like a hymn. Speak it like a prayer. Baby, I am not above getting on my knees to beg.” 

You pulled back slightly at this, placing your hand on her chest. She was panting heavy and staring directly into your soul with those onyx eyes of hers. There was nothing but blind devotion there. Almost as if she worshipped a stranger that she hadn’t known an hour earlier. It was working and you hated that it was. That when she slotted her knee against your sex it drew a moan from your lips, her nose nudging playfully against your own. 

“Y/n,” You whispered out, word shaking in the confines of your voice. “It’s y/n.” 

Mary repeated it back to you with delicacy. A softness that no one had ever treated you with before. Her exhale was hot on your lips, the tips of her fingers tracing over your features as if she’d never met another person. There was a darkness that pulsed in her gaze that thrilled you. That pushed a groan from your throat. Her hand moved there, but didn’t squeeze. 

She walked the two of  you until the backs of your knees hit the edge of the pool table, her lips once again connected with yours, but her hands on your hips. Mary lifted you in a show of strength, setting you on the edge. She swallowed your noise of shock, of arousal, only pulling away long enough to remove your shirt and toss it. 

“Wait,” You whispered against her, halting her movements.She was stone still, breathing heavier. Growling with each exhale but complying to your request nonetheless. “I’m the only place for miles. What if Albuquerque comes back?” 

Mary lifted her head from your shoulder, eyebrow raised “Albuquerque?” 

“Where he was from, don’t know his name. Didn’t care enough to ask.” 

Her lip twitched up slightly at this. “I wouldn’t worry much about that, sweet girl. Plenty of things in these woods take care of creeps like that. And if he does come back lookin’ for trouble, I’ll handle it.” 

“You?” 

“Yes,” She leaned forward pressing her lips back to a soft spot under your jaw. “Me. Now, do you want to keep talking about New Mexico or do you want me to take care of you? Make you feel real nice.” 

The second option sounded better. Much better, especially when she nipped at your skin a little and soothed it with her tongue, her deft fingers trailing expertly down your sides and to the button of your pants, unlatching the metal with fluidity.

When she swiped her fingers through your sex, you fell forward into her, burying your face in her shoulder. It was marred with the scent of salt and spice and clove. The sly touch was enough to have you trembling.

“I’ve barely even touched you and you’re this reactive.” She said it like an infinite statement, not a question. “If we’re going to do this, I want to hear every sweet little noise that comes out of that mouth.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Uh-huh.” Mary snarled back at you, mocked you. It was cruel, but it worked regardless. You wrapped an arm around her shoulder as she slipped two fingers into you, a gasp falling from your lips. Her own were back on your neck, a strange fascination there, licking and nipping and soothing all within the same breath. “you’re so tight. So fucking tight.”

Mary thrusts rapidly into you with a steady pace, the lude, wet sounds coming from the both of you was the most action this place had ever seen. The pool table creaked beneath the effort of your shared movements as you rutted closer to this near stranger. Under a spell, intoxicated. 

Her palm applies even pressure to your clit, her other hand palming your breast. Even through the fabric of your bra, the touch is cold and startling but you don’t have much time to contemplate the change in temperature because she’s pushing you onto your back straddling you fully now, balancing precariously on the lip of the pool table. Her hand is trapped between her stoney presence and your writhing body.

She’s got more weight to her than you imagined. You got to move your hand to her hip, but she snatches your wrist, pins it to the green felt above your head. Shows you that she’s in complete control. You tighten around her at this, shutter out a breath.

“There’s too much that goes on in that mind of yours, isn’t there, doll?” her voice was gravelly, ferine in nature. “That’s why you put that sign in the window. Too much effort to make pesky rules about who or what could come in here.”

“Huh?”

It was a weird thing to mention, and frankly, didn’t matter much when she curled her fingers the way that she did. You could feel yourself getting close, could feel that fire building in your belly and she much have felt it too because she slowed down, painstakingly slow. A disquieted whine left your chest.

Mary tsked, pulling back from her continual kissing and nipping against your throat and collarbone, the tops of your breasts. Your eyes were screwed shut. The pressure shifted when she did. She sat back. “Such a good girl, taking me so well.”

There was a strange timbre to her voice that cut through the blissful haze you were swimming in. Your eyes opening, stare meeting with Mary’s, entirely black, ink spreading so easily through what little brown had remained. The oil lamps caught the silver that rested in the middle. The animalistic, feral, hungry part of her that reminded you all too much of a demon.

Fear seized you when she smiled, mingled with the adrenaline and arousal that still lingered. She was deep inside you, working slowly in and out. And by God, you still wanted to kiss her, still wanted whatever she had to offer, because you had known. Deep down you had known that something was off with Mary.

And that was just fine, because it was different. It wasn’t the same shitty four walls. Not this time.

She lilted her head, processing the fear in your eyes, then the acceptance as her tongue ran over the four pointed teeth, saliva abundant. The hand holding yours down subconsciously loosened it’s grip.

“Will you finish fucking me before you kill me?” You huffed.  

“I promised I’d take care of you. Will you let me take care of you?”

Of course you nodded, too quickly, too desperately. You were on the edge of release and needed her to continue her efforts to get you there. Mary purred, lowering herself back on top of you with languid expertise, doubling down.

She picked up her thrusting, her pressure. Her lips were back on yours, this time the sharpness of her teeth cut into your bottom lip. You grunted into her, the sting shocking but nice within the same go. The blood against your tongue a sweet and salty mix of ecstasy.

Mary’s lips trailed from your own, your noises of pleasure becoming louder. The pressure was building in your abdomen, breaths coming faster, sweat forming against your skin. Mary was at your throat now, palm on your chest, strength keeping you flush to the pool table.

She timed it perfectly, the mix of pain and pleasure. The moment her teeth dug into your neck and your orgasm washed over you. You arched into her all the same, and she held you like the gentle lover that she portrayed herself as.

You reveled in the coolness of her now, the way your heat-slicked skin felt pressed close to her own. She ate messily, but quietly all the same, working you through your own release as a light-headedness filled you.

The pain was there; of course it was there. Flesh was bitten into, scarred and torn and ripped as if it were nothing but paper mâché. But you shook all the same from satisfaction. Breath coming heavy and fast, and softly all at once.

Mary pulled her fingers from you, the feeling of being empty drawing a whimper from you, soothed by a squeeze to the hip and she shifting of weight atop you. Your eyes trained on the shiplap ceiling above you, the wet sounds of a tongue lapping at a warmth slicking your shoulder, the felt of the pool table.

Teeth pulling from tendons was somehow a worse loss than her fingers from your sex. Something deeper, emptier. She sat back on your midsection, dragged her arm across her face to smear the cherry red across the perfect sleeve of her shirt. Most of yourself had gotten on her.

“You have a beautiful name, darlin. Beautiful face too.” Mary took her thumb, dragged it against the edge of her lip and licked your blood clean from it. “When was the last time you saw the sunrise?”

It was hard to think. Your body felt slow, painful, uncomfortable on all accounts. A searing pain radiating from where her teeth had sunk into you, thrumming through your body. Was she just going to let you bleed out? Not bring about a quick end? There had been hunger in her eyes, not cruelty.

“I don’t remember,” You rasped out.

Mary frowned, something of sorrow, but it was brief. Both of her hands placed on your chest. “It won’t be long now. Before you can’t see it again. Little things that you miss appreciating when you have a chance. I haven’t seen the sunrise in fifteen years.”

You coughed under her, wet and heavy. Mary took your hand in her own. Bloodied, but still perfectly manicured, “That’s sad.”

“It can be. But fire looks a lot like a sunrise if you squint.” She gave you a smile, the first genuine one of the night that crinkled at her eyes. Not hiding the sharp teeth behind her lips. “What do you say when you wake up, we burn this place to the ground. Give you one last sunrise?”

You blew air out of your nose. “Didn’t think I was gonna wake up.”

“Course you are, angel.” She gave your hand a gentle, yet firm squeeze. “I’m not a monster.”

[fadedpiink]

he holds you like treasure, you keep his in your pocket

luffy x gn!reader

synopsis: cute headcanons for luffy i had

contains: est relationship, skin-ship, comfort, bf!luffy

late night clinginess

luffy’s the type who doesn’t start the night cuddling, but always ends it that way. you’ll fall asleep thinking you’ve got room, and then wake up with his arms looped around your waist, face buried somewhere against your neck, legs tangled up in yours like he’s anchoring you in place.

if you shift even a little, he just makes this low, half-asleep sound and tightens his hold like: nope. mine. stay.

sometimes he talks in his sleep too, mumbling stuff like “don’t go yet...” all soft and slurred against your skin, like his brain’s still sailing around with you even when he’s unconscious.

he never lets go until the sun’s too high and the crew starts knocking.

for you

luffy will come back from wandering with the dumbest little trinkets and hand them to you like they’re priceless treasure. a stick shaped like a lightning bolt, a pebble that’s slightly heart-shaped, one time he straight up handed you a rusty old key and said:

“dunno what it opens, but it’s cool. it’s for you.”

and you keep all of them. every single one. tucked in your pockets, on your nightstand, in a little box nami rolled her eyes about when she caught you organizing it.

the next time you take something out and wear it — a random shell he found strung on a cord — he notices immediately. grins so wide his whole face lights up, like it’s the best thing he’s ever seen.

“looks good on you.”

"brushies" randomly thought about this one while brushing my teeth haha

luffy starts brushing his teeth with you every night like it's sacred. he's not subtle either — shows up while you're mid-swipe, foam already in his mouth, grinning in the mirror. copies your movements exactly. you rinse? he rinses. you spit? he spits louder. sometimes he hums. sometimes he narrates. “look at us. brushing. bonding. besties.” the crew is disturbed. zoro walks by like, “why are they synchronized.” sanji threatens to leave the kitchen every time luffy calls it “our little mouth spa.” you secretly love it. he leans into you at the end like, “clean teeth kisses?” (you always say yes.)

best bite

you’ll never understand it. luffy never shares. ever. but when you sit beside him, he’s already holding out the best bite. “open.” “i have my own food.” “but this one’s perfect.” and he’s right — it always is. the crew watches like it’s a horror movie. sanji swears under his breath. nami stares. usopp’s like, “he didn’t even let me sniff it.” :c you? you take the bite, every time. because it’s not about hunger. it’s about the way he watches you chew like he’s proud. like he saved that one just for you. (because he did.)

hope you enjoyed! please like + reblog to show support, and feel free to leave feedback and comments through rb tags, anon messages, or dms!

[rafesbabygirlx]

Rafe loves to taste you

𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝

Any day, any time Rafe’s mouth is on you. He loves breathing in you in. Kissing you, licking you, biting you. You’re pretty sure your scent is half perfume, half his saliva.

It doesn’t matter if you’re sitting in his truck, in the middle of a party, or curled up in his bed while the rest of the house sleeps. Even out to eat, at some point he ends up on your side of the table face deep in the crook of your neck. He does it like he needs it to live. Like the second his lips aren’t on you, something inside him starts to unravel.

Tonight, it’s late. The island’s quiet, lit up by streetlights and the distant sound of waves. You’re both half-drunk on shitty beer and each other, sitting on the hood of his car in that field that faces the ocean he always drives to when he wants to escape. You’re mid-sentence, something dumb about one of your friends, you’re not even sure anymore, because he suddenly pulls you into his lap and begins nibbling on your earlobe. Swirling his tongue in every crevice of your ear.

You lose your train of thought at the feeling. It’s invigorating. It’s made you stop wearing earrings daily just at the hope he’ll do it. And he always does. His tongue trails down your neck leaving love bites on the back of your shoulder before moving back up where he reaches your mouth.

His hand slips around the back of your neck, thumb brushing against your jaw as he deepens it like he’s got a point to prove. You swear, with Rafe, there’s no such thing as a casual kiss. It’s always a hungry, possessive thing. Like he’s trying to brand the lines of his lips onto yours.

When he pulls back, just barely, his breath fans across your cheek and he whispers, “I love kissin’ you, you know that?”

You laugh, because yeah, you do know. He kisses you like it’s the one thing in his life that makes sense.

✧༺♥༻✧

His mouth moves rough and slow, then fast, then slow again, like he’s trying to mess with your head. His tongue licks into your mouth, deliberate and teasing, like he wants to taste every sound you’re trying to hold back. And then he bites your bottom lip, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to make you gasp against him. That cocky little smirk spreads across his face before he drags his mouth down your neck again.

“You drive me insane,” he mutters between kisses, tongue tracing the spot he just bit, teeth grazing your skin like he’s deciding whether to mark you for real. “You know that, right?”

You arch against him as his hands slide under your shirt, palms hot, fingertips rough from weight lifting and fights and whatever else he gets into when you’re not around. But here? Like this? He’s focused on one thing only.

“I could kiss you all night,” he says, lips brushing your collarbone, voice low and raspy. “Lick you till you forget your name. Leave you covered in me.”

And the way he says it, like it’s a promise, not a threat, you know he means every word.

✧༺♥༻✧

His mouth drops to the tops of your breasts. He sucks on them roughly leaving a few bruises behind. You let out a moan, alerting him.

“You like when I do that?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper as he moves back in. His breath is warm, and when his tongue flicks over your skin there, you shiver, you can’t help it.

You nod, and that’s all the answer he needs. His laugh is low, cocky, but not mean. He’s proud of himself, proud of how easily he can unravel you.

“I could stay here forever,” he murmurs, tugging your shirt down a little more. “Just kissin’ and bitin’ and makin’ you squirm.”

His fingers press into your hips to keep you still, like he’s the one losing control, and you’re the only thing grounding him.

Then he pulls back, eyes locked on yours, lips shiny and swollen from everything he's just done to you.

“You drive me fucking crazy,” he says again, almost like a confession. Then, softer, “But I’m not done with you yet.”

And you believe him because with Rafe, the heat never really dies down. It just simmers until the next spark.

tags <3

@rafestoothbrush @weluvwbb @itsforeverandalwayz @butterfly-ibuki @megiiite @siredbtches @bigenergy777 @aupernatural-teenwolflover @rafegf-real @skywalker0809 @snowtargaryen @kieeslove @leather-n-velvet @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @rafesgreasycurtainbangs @diasnohibng @slurpdew @alphabetically-deranged @whydoesthemirrorhateme @currentresidentinhell @slut-4-rafey @akobx @rafesheaven @laniirackssss @jjmaybankmylovee @slut4you @nemesyaaa

[midnight-shadow-cafe]

After Simon and wife!readers little anniversary trip they are blessed with a surprise of a new baby!!!

The hard part? Explaining it to Tommy

The Best Surprise

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x Wife!Reader

Warnings: Soft dad!Simon, pregnancy symptoms, lots of fluffy family moments, worried kiddo, emotional comfort, Grandpa Price being the GOAT, mention of bodily symptoms (mild), established relationship

Author’s Note: You may or may not cry during reading this. I know I cried while writing this so please enjoy!

Summary: You and Simon return from your anniversary getaway with something a little extra. You suspect it early—but it takes a little time, a lot of nerves, and the sharp eyes of a sweet little boy to bring it all together.

Masterlist

MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+

It started off small.

A weird twinge in your stomach. A yawn that wouldn’t quit. A sudden craving for peanut butter on pickles that had Simon doing a double take.

“You’re joking, right?”

You shrugged, taking a bite. “Tastes like childhood.”

“Can’t say I remember that flavor in mine.”

You’d brushed it off.

Then came the dizziness. The sore boobs. The overwhelming fatigue that settled into your bones like fog.

And then—missing your period.

You stared at the calendar on the fridge for a full minute before quietly marking a missed day. Then another. Then another.

Tommy had been coloring at the table, tongue poking out the corner of his mouth while he concentrated.

“Mum?” he asked suddenly. “Are you okay? You look sleepy.”

“I’m alright, baby,” you said, kissing the top of his head. “Just a little tired, that’s all.”

He blinked up at you, suspicious in the way only small children can be. Then went back to coloring a dragon in neon orange and purple.

You took your phone and went to the bathroom with shaking hands.

There was a test hidden in the cabinet. One of those “just in case” kind of things you kept around. It was a little dusty.

You sat on the edge of the tub with your heart pounding, the little stick waiting on the counter like a secret.

Simon knocked once. “Everything alright in there, love?”

You didn’t answer right away.

“…I think I might be pregnant.”

A pause.

Then the door opened slowly and Simon stepped inside. His expression was unreadable for a second—just still.

Then he gave you the softest look.

“Yeah?”

You nodded, holding up the test. “Just… waiting now.”

He knelt beside you and took your hand.

Together, you stared at the stick. The little pink line bloomed into a plus sign.

You both went very quiet.

Simon let out a breath and leaned in, pressing a long, quiet kiss to your forehead.

“We’re doing this again,” you whispered, tears building in your eyes.

He nodded. “Hell yeah, we are.”

——

It wasn’t long before Tommy started to notice… things.

“Mum?” he asked one morning as you pushed aside your plate. “You don’t want pancakes? You always want pancakes.”

Your stomach turned at the sight of syrup. “Not today, bug.”

Simon watched you quietly as he sipped his coffee. His hand settled over yours under the table.

A few days later, Tommy came into the bathroom while you were brushing your teeth—and caught you mid-gag.

“Mum?”

You waved him off, mouth full of minty foam. “Just… toothpaste hit wrong.”

Tommy gave you a look. Then ran out and returned with a half-eaten granola bar.

“You can have this,” he said solemnly. “Sometimes food makes me feel better too.”

You took it, heart swelling. “Thanks, baby.”

But with every day, his sweet gestures came with a little more hesitation. A few more sidelong glances.

He got clingier, too.

Sat pressed into your side every time you were on the couch. Followed you to the kitchen. Insisted on helping you carry things, even if it was just a single sock.

You didn’t miss it. But you didn’t push either.

Simon noticed too.

“He’s overthinking,” he said one night, watching Tommy fall asleep still clinging to your shirt. “Keeps looking between us like he’s waiting for something bad to happen.”

“I know,” you murmured, rubbing Tommy’s back. “I’m just not sure how to tell him.”

——

A week later, after a long day and an early dinner, you found Tommy curled up on the living room floor with his stuffed shark and a sad little pout on his face.

You sat down beside him and ran a hand through his curls.

“Hey, bug. Wanna help me fold the laundry?”

He shook his head.

“Wanna pick a movie?”

Another shake.

“Wanna—”

“Are you gonna love the baby more than me?” he asked softly.

Your heart cracked right in half.

You opened your mouth, but no words came.

Before you could find them, Tommy stood up, hugged his shark close to his chest, and whispered, “I’m gonna go see Grandpa Price.”

He slipped out of the room in his little socks, padding down the hallway like a shadow.

Simon appeared in the doorway, having heard just enough to piece it together. He looked at you for a second—then followed.

——

Price was already in the guest room, reading a book in bed. He looked up as Tommy climbed up beside him without a word.

The kid curled into his side like it was instinct, hugging his shark, lower lip wobbling.

“Everything alright, little man?”

Tommy sniffled. “Is it true? That when babies come, they take all the love?”

Price slowly closed his book and set it on the nightstand.

“They don’t take it, Tommy. Your mum and dad? They made a whole new kind of love just for you. That doesn’t go anywhere. Not ever.”

Tommy’s nose wrinkled. “But Mum’s sick now. And Dad keeps bringing her juice. And they whisper a lot. What if I’m not special anymore?”

“You’re their first,” Price said. “No one ever forgets their first. You changed their whole world. And now you’re gonna help them make room for someone new.”

Tommy mulled that over.

“Will I still get bedtime stories?”

“Absolutely.”

“Cuddles?”

“Every single day.”

“…even fart jokes?”

“Especially fart jokes.”

Tommy giggled and rested his head on Price’s chest.

Price rubbed his back gently. “Being a big brother doesn’t mean losing anything, Tommy. It means getting to teach someone everything you already know. That’s the coolest kind of magic.”

Tommy was quiet for a long time, thinking hard with his little brow furrowed.

Then he whispered, “Will you carry me back?”

“Course I will,” Price said, scooping him up and hoisting him onto his shoulders.

Tommy clung to him, safe and warm, the weight of the world a little lighter.

As they passed the hallway, he glanced back and saw you and Simon waiting in the doorway.

Tommy smiled shyly. “Hi, Mum. Hi, Dad.”

“Hi, baby,” you said, heart full.

Simon reached for Tommy and pulled him down into a big, warm hug.

“We love you more than anything,” Simon whispered. “That’ll never change.”

Tommy clung to him like a koala.

“I love you, too. I think I’m ready to be a big brother.”

You smiled through the tears.

“I know you are, bug.”

And somewhere in your belly, the tiniest heartbeat seemed to flutter in agreement.

Hope you enjoyed! Please consider liking and reposting! -Midnight💜

[imnotkaizer]

CLEVER PRISONER — fucked you so good to the point your body gave up.

NOTE — decided to write for arcane

Her presence was a fucking magnet, pulling your eyes no matter how hard you tried to look away.

"You think I’m hot?" you asked, tilting your head, voice low and teasing, like you were tossing out a line to see if she’d bite.

You leaned one shoulder against the bars, casual, but your pulse was already kicking up, betraying you.

Her eyes snapped to yours, dark and sharp as a switchblade, glinting with something dangerous and delicious.

She didn’t move at first, just let her lips curl into a slow, predatory smile that made your stomach twist.

"Should I repeat myself?" she drawled, her voice rough and smoky, like she’d spent the night whispering dirty secrets in someone’s ear.

"I said you’re fucking gorgeous. That clear enough for you?"

You crossed your arms, smirking to hide the heat creeping up your neck.

"You’re a menace" you shot back, but the words came out softer than you meant, laced with a hunger you couldn’t quite mask.

She caught it—fuck, those eyes didn’t miss a thing.

They raked over you, slow and shameless, like she was peeling back your uniform in her mind, layer by layer.

She stood, all fluid grace, and sauntered to the bars, her fingers grazing the metal with a soft, deliberate clink that echoed in the silence.

She was close now, close enough that you caught the faint spice of her scent—sweat, cheap soap.

"How ‘bout… a little fun in here?" she murmured, her voice a velvet blade, each word sliding under your skin and settling somewhere deep.

Her gaze flicked down to your lips, then lower, bold as fuck, like she was already imagining you naked and begging.

You laughed, sharp and quick, shaking your head to clear the fog she was stirring up.

"You’re out of your damn mind, sweetheart." But the nickname slipped out too easy, and her grin widened, all teeth and triumph, like she’d just won the first round.

"Am I?" she taunted, leaning in until her face was inches from yours, the bars the only thing keeping you apart.

Her breath was warm, brushing your cheek through the gap.

"Come on, cupcake" she purred, the pet name dripping with mock sweetness that made your thighs clench.

"No one’s out there. No eye in this dump. Just you, me, and a whole lotta time to kill."

Her fingers curled tighter around the bars, knuckles whitening, and her eyes burned into yours, daring you to cross the line.

Your brain was screaming walk away, lock this shit down, don’t be fucking stupid.

But your body was a traitor, heat pooling low in your belly, your skin prickling under her stare. She was a wildfire, all sharp edges and raw, unfiltered want, and you were already too close to the flame.

You swallowed hard, trying to hold onto the last shred of your self-control.

"You think you can just bat your eyes and I’ll throw my job away?" you said, but your voice was rough, cracked, and she fucking knew she had you.

"Bat my eyes?" She laughed, low and filthy, the sound curling around you like smoke.

"Baby, i don’t need to play cute. You’re already halfway in."

She reached through the bars, bold as hell, her fingers brushing the edge of your belt, tugging just enough to make you flinch.

"Unlock this shit. Let’s see how much trouble we can make."

You should’ve walked.

Should’ve turned around, reported her ass, anything but what you did next.

But your hands were moving before your brain caught up, the key scraping in the lock, your pulse hammering so loud it drowned out the clank of the bars swinging open.

She didn’t hesitate—she grabbed your wrist, yanking you inside, her mouth crashing against yours like a fucking hurricane.

It was all heat and teeth, her tongue slick and demanding, her hands tearing at your uniform like it personally offended her.

Buttons popped, fabric ripped, and you didn’t give a shit, not when her nails were raking down your back, leaving trails of fire.

She pushed you against the cot, the metal frame creaking as you hit it, and she was on you, all confidence and control.

"Fuck, you’re pretty when you’re losing it" she growled, her voice thick with lust as she shoved your pants down, her fingers finding you wet and ready before you could even process it.

She didn’t tease, didn’t play—she fucked you with her fingers, hard and fast, curling just right, hitting spots that made you gasp and curse, your hips bucking against her hand.

Her other hand gripped your thigh, spreading you open, and then her mouth was on you, hot and relentless, sucking your clit, her tongue flicking in ways that had you seeing stars.

You were a mess, moaning her name like it was the only word you knew, your hands tangled in her hair, pulling hard enough to make her groan against you.

She ate you out like she was starving, her lips and tongue working you over until your legs shook, your knees buckling as you came so hard you thought you’d black out.

But she didn’t stop—her fingers kept moving, slick and punishing, pushing you through another wave until you were on your knees, gasping, wrecked, the cold concrete biting into your skin.

She laughed, low and smug, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand as she leaned over you, her breath hot against your ear.

"Told you I’d show you a good time, cupcake," she whispered, and fuck, you couldn’t even argue, not when your body was still trembling from her.

But then—nothing.

Your eyes fluttered open, and the world was wrong.

The cell was dead quiet, the air cold and stale.

You were slumped on the cot, uniform half-off, thighs slick, your pulse still racing like you’d run a marathon.

But she was gone.

Fucking gone.

The cell door hung open, the bars casting long, mocking shadows across the floor.

You scrambled to your feet, heart hammering, your head spinning as you stumbled to the doorway.

The corridor was empty, silent, not a trace of her—not her scent, not her laugh, nothing.

Just the faint sting of her nails on your skin and the taste of her lingering on your lips.

You leaned against the wall, trying to catch your breath, your mind clawing for answers.

Had she played you?

Slipped out while you were out of it?

Or was she something else entirely—a ghost, a fever dream, a thief who’d stolen more than just your senses?

You zipped up your torn uniform, wincing at the ache in your muscles, and glanced back at the empty cell.

[bandgie]

A Violet Exchange

warnings! MDNI18+, chastity, strap-use (f!rec), mating press, grinding, multiple orgasms (f!rec), sounding mentions

notes! this has been on my head for a few days. thought I should bring it to life

Pain doesn't exist in Changbin's world. All he can focus on are your soft hips, how he softly guides them up and down his caged cock. You're holding onto those broad shoulders so tightly. The manicured fingernails he paid for dig into his flesh harshly, but pain just doesn't exist.

It should though. Not because of your unforgiving grip, not even because of how you bite and suck on his neck, but his because of dick. Locked and stuffed tightly in a cage much too small for him. For hours, it's only been leaking. For hours, it's been teased but never touched. The most stimulation Changbin gets is your soft folds grinding on his sack.

Not that he complains. Your boy never complains. He's drooling from the corner of his mouth with those pretty eyes crossed as if you were riding him. The curls of his dark hair plastered his forehead from earnestly trying to feel anything on his cock. Still, he won't say peep - won't even make it noticeable - because your pleasure is that much more important.

You've already came on him. That white, sticky cream sticking and frothing every time you slide against his balls, but you need more. He wants you to need more.

When you shake, beautiful body trembling in his gasp with even more beautiful moans, he knows you've reached your climax again.

He can feel the warmness of your cunt sticking onto him. The way it seeps onto his cage and bedsheets. He wants it so bad. The need is so terribly bad that just the thought of sinking into your wet heat makes his hips shoot upwards.

A small sound escapes - a shaky inhale nixed with a laugh.

"Tsk. Tsk. Tsk. Such an impatient boy."

No, he's good. Changbin's being so good. Even when you move off him and gesture to the drawer, he doesn't make a peep. Changbin obediently reaches for the nightstand and pulls out his substitute. A purple dildo that attaches to a harness just for him. He feels you watch with hungry eyes as he puts on the harness, adjusting the fake cock just above his caged one before locking it into place.

Maybe it's humiliating, fucking you with this dildo rather than the real thing, but he loves how your eyes light up. How eagerly you grip the base and stroke just like you would if it was his.

And tonight, it is.

You're settling your back onto the bed, legs spread with your pretty hands guiding the cock. Changbin takes over at that point. He slaps it against your folds until he sees the strings of arousal clinging to it. Your body jerks, still sensitive from your previous orgasms. A deep moan pulls from you when he grinds the strap against your pussy. Wet, sticky, and everything perfect.

Changbin swears he can feel it. How the ridges of 'his' cock slide against your slit. How your clit twitches under the head of it. He moans with you, bottom lip caught between his teeth as he finally gets to feel your warm heat.

And when he sinks in, all his composure is lost. Your pussy gives so easily. So needy that he's chasing that high at the cost of your sanity. Thick fingers keep your thigh spread. The constant bumping of his strap on your cervix has you nearly screaming. Changbin's trying to get deeper. He's really trying to fool himself into thinking he's really fucking you. It's only a matter of time until your knees are pushed to your face, Changbin's feet planted onto the bed while he fucks you hard into a mating press.

You can feel his balls and restrained cock slapping on your ass. With how deep he's managed to get inside, you can't even tell him you're cumming. All you can manage are those hiccups Changbin always manages to reduce you to with desperate gasps for air.

He feels it though. Real or not, he can feel it all. The pulsing of your walls, how much creamier and slicker the sounds have gotten. If he really wants to confirm, he can look down to see how much of your white sweetness has coated the purple dildo.

And seeing it - your orgasm and how your pussy stretches for him - he cums. He thinks he does at least. Something hot bursts in his stomach and he swears he can feel that hot seed spurting out of his and deep into your cunt. His hips stutter, his mouth goes slack with uncontrolled moans, and he swears something wet drips down his leg.

It's only when he pulls out - albeit, hesitantly - that he sees he did cum. It runs from the slit of his chastity belt down to his thick thighs.

You smile when you see, easing the guilt off Changbin's muscular shoulders. He leans into your tired body, kissing and trying to feel every inch of your skin with his shaky hands.

"You know," you say once the cum has turned tacky and flaky. "You weren't supposed to cum at all."

Changbin's turns such a cute pink that you can't help but kiss the tip of his nose.

"Have you ever heard of sounding?"

[faithsmadhouse]

Hi! Can I ask Dom Seb Red Bull era fucking a reporter after the "I was thinking of you all race long" interview confession? Live your work!

All race long||Sebastian Vettel x fem!reader

Word count—765

“I was thinking of you all race long.”

The words echo in her head on a loop. He’d said them live, no hesitation, eyes locked on her like she was the only thing in his world. Not the trophy. Not the crowd. Not even the roar of the engines fading behind him. Just her.

She smiled. Laughed, even, like it was a joke. Professionalism had kicked in. But her legs had trembled beneath the clipboard in her hands, and her panties had been soaked before the interview even ended.

Now, hours later, she’s in the hallway of his hotel. She doesn’t even remember how she got here—just that when the elevator doors opened and she saw him inside, his race suit peeled halfway down his waist and sweat was still clinging to his neck, something inside her snapped.

“You followed me,” Seb says now, leaning against the doorframe of his suite, a cocky smile curving his lips.

“You said it first,” she fires back, trying for boldness, but it comes out breathless.

He watches her for a moment. Then step aside.

“Get in.”

She does. The door clicks shut behind her, and she barely has time to turn before he’s on her. His hands grip her waist, his mouth crashes into hers, and she whimpers against his lips, letting him take. It’s not a kiss it’s a fucking claim.

“Tried to focus,” he mutters as he walks her backwards toward the wall. “Tried to keep it clean. But every goddamn lap, I could see your mouth. Hear that voice in my head.”

She gasps when her back hits the wall, and he lifts her effortlessly, her legs wrapping around his waist out of instinct.

“You know what I was thinking during the podium?”

“What?”

He grinds up against her. She’s not even sure when he pulled her skirt up, but now she can feel the thick press of him through his suit, against her soaked panties.

“Thinking about bending you over the cool-down room table. Ripping this tight little outfit off you and fucking you where everyone could hear.”

“Jesus, Seb—”

He bites at her neck, pulling her panties aside, and presses two fingers between her folds. She’s drenched.

“Fuck,” he groans. “You’re already this wet for me? From a few words?”

“Not just words,” she pants. “You knew what you were doing.”

He chuckles darkly, rubbing slow, teasing circles against her clit. “Oh, I meant every word. Thought about this—you—every lap. My cock was so fucking hard in that seat. I couldn’t wait to get my hands on you.”

He carries her to the bed and drops her like she’s weightless. Stands over her, eyes burning. “Strip.”

She does. He watches every inch of skin she reveals, gaze hungry, hands flexing at his sides.

“Lie back,” he commands. “Legs open.”

She obeys, breath catching as he kneels between her thighs. “Such a good girl,” he murmurs, dragging his tongue up her slit. “Bet no one’s ever made you come with just their mouth, huh?”

She moans in response—and then again, louder, when he starts to devour her. Tongue ruthless, lips wrapping around her clit, fingers digging into her thighs to hold her still.

“Fuck, fuck, Seb—!” she cries, hips bucking, hands gripping his hair.

He doesn’t stop until she’s shaking, gasping, begging. And even then, he doesn’t give her a moment to recover.

“You’re not done,” he growls, stripping his suit the rest of the way off. His cock slaps against his stomach—thick, hard, leaking. “You take all of me tonight. Understand?”

She nods, dazed.

He grabs a condom, rips it open with his teeth, and rolls it on. Then he’s above her, pushing in slow, torturous inches.

“Oh my God,” she gasps, nails raking his back.

“Feel that?” he pants. “That’s what thinking about you did to me.”

He sets a brutal pace, hips slamming into hers, his mouth on her throat, her breasts, her lips. His hand slides down to her clit again, rubbing tight circles while he pounds into her.

“You’re gonna come again,” he orders. “I wanna feel you squeeze my cock. Now.”

She does—writhing, gasping, body going tight around him. Her orgasm hits like a wave, and he fucks her through it, chasing his own release until he curses, groans, and spills into the condom, buried deep inside her.

They collapse together, breathless, sweat-slick, tangled in each other.

She finally finds her voice. “You… really thought about me the whole race?”

He chuckles against her skin. “You think I didn’t win for you?”

[hoosurdaddy]

Nest.

Pairing: Joe Goldberg x reader x Love Quinn.

ummary: You’ve been in their home for weeks now. Maybe months. Time’s slippery when you’re kept warm, fed, worshipped. You should feel like a pet. Like a prisoner. But all you feel is wanted. Needed. Maybe even… loved.

Warnings: NSFW (explicit sex), obsession, unhealthy dynamics, possessive/controlling behavior, manipulation, dubcon-adjacent (reader is drugged lightly for “relaxation”), voyeurism, dom/sub undertones, pet names, praise kink, mild biting, dark romance themes.

You have been warned.

Not taking requests.

⸻

The sheets smell like vanilla, linen, and Love’s skin.

You stretch slowly, the silk blindfold still warm against your eyelids. There’s a buzz in your limbs—not quite sedation, not quite arousal. Something between. Something intentional. You know the tea Love gave you an hour ago had something in it. You’re past questioning it. You always feel good afterward. Calm. Soft. Docile.

Joe’s voice cuts through the haze, low and careful.

“You look perfect like this.”

You hear the click of a camera. Not a phone. A real camera. The kind he used back when he said he “wanted to capture the truth of things.”

“You’re taking pictures?” your voice is hoarse, half-curious, half-sleepy.

“You’re art, baby,” Love whispers from the foot of the bed. “We can’t keep you all to ourselves and not at least look when you’re not here.”

You feel a kiss on your knee. Then your thigh. Then teeth.

Your breath hitches.

Love climbs up between your legs like a predator, hands sliding up your sides, her tongue darting out to taste your skin. She’s naked. You can feel her heat against your leg.

“She’s wet already,” Love purrs to Joe. “Just from hearing your voice.”

There’s the sound of something being set down. The camera. Then the rustle of clothing. Joe’s taking his shirt off. You know the sounds now. You know the feel of him when he presses against you—sharp hipbones, calloused hands, thick and patient where it counts.

“Of course she is,” Joe says, now closer, breath hot against your ear. “She knows she belongs to us.”

The words make your thighs press together involuntarily. Love pushes them apart again, chuckling. “Uh-uh, sweetheart. No hiding from us.”

They don’t ask for permission anymore. But somehow, you never feel forced. It’s like they’ve trained you—slowly, lovingly, breaking you down until this became your sanctuary.

Joe’s hands slide beneath your back, lifting you slightly so he can kiss along your collarbone. His voice is gentle. Too gentle for how rough he can be.

“You’re our pretty little pet, aren’t you?”

You nod.

Even blindfolded, you can feel their smiles.

Love licks a long, slow stripe from your navel to your chest. “Say it.”

“I’m yours.”

Joe’s fingers wrap around your throat—not to choke, just to hold. “Good girl.”

You feel Love’s fingers first. Then her mouth. Joe keeps whispering—dirty things, loving things, terrifying things. You lose track of where one of them ends and the other begins. You’re breathless, aching, unraveling under four hands, two mouths, one obsession.

They don’t stop until you beg.

Even then, they keep going just a little longer. Just to hear you cry.

[zepskies]

TASTE

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Vampire!Reader

Summary: It’s a devastating hunger. He finds you, at his own risk.

AN: Surprise! Here’s a short drabble for @chevroletdean's 500 follower celebration! (Moodboard created by Liane!) 💜🖤❤️

Word Count: 900

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only. Angst, spiciness, set circa season 6, little twist ending…

A tease, a whisper of heated breath, a soft streak of cherry red lipstick drawing a lazy path to his ear; your lips brush against his jawline.

“Dean.”

His breath hitches. Perhaps it’s a reaction to the way you say his name, a sultry beckoning and a plea all at once, like a heady sip of Merlot somehow scarring down the throat.

Perhaps it’s the way you’ve caught him. He clears his throat.

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you, sweetheart,” he intones.

You can hear every uptick beat of his heart while his big hands find an achingly familiar stronghold on your parted thighs. You’ve always admired the strength in his hands, and the way he can move you even without their talents—with just his lips, his voice, his eyes.

He’s found you in this hovel. Deep down, you knew he would eventually. You have him trapped beneath you on this dingy couch, your long nails biting into chipped leather instead of his skin. You’re the one who’s stronger now. And no matter how many warnings blare like a fiery lashing in your mind, you can’t help yourself. You want him more than ever.

It’s a devastating hunger.

For every cell that no longer bleeds red inside you, there’s a demand for more. You crave his taste, now in more ways than one. It scares you. This scares you, more than you’ve ever been scared of anything—even though you’re the one who’s in control, grabbing his face with a slender hand. Your fingertips press into his jaw, digging firmly enough into his stubble-covered cheeks to have the jade of his eyes solely on you.

Your eyes are different now. Darker, sharper, a phantom haze of violet and crushed roses. You see the way he takes in your face, trying to find something recognizable in you besides your body.

“You shouldn’t have,” you finally reply, though there’s hesitation in your voice. Conflict. Pain. Need. A small vulnerability, slight tremble. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

And yet, that deep pit of empty, vicious craving deep in your core compels you to move, to take what you need.

“I think we both know I can handle it,” Dean says. His grin is cocky and familiar in its teasing, but his eyes hold the weight of more. He can’t just let you go. His grip tightens on your thighs to deliberately shift you against him, guiding your clothed pussy against the generous, straining bulge in his jeans. You feel the warmth of him already. You utter a soft moan, your brows knitting together.

Fuck. It’s only been days, but you’ve missed him.

Just a taste.

A threat of a kiss against his lips devolves into hungry devouring. A grunt and a groan loosen from the back of his throat. His fingers delve into your hair and slip around the strands, the same way you suck his tongue into your mouth.

Your hand slips around his back to pull him closer. Your nails rake down his spine, gripping the red flannel of his shirt. He hisses at the red lines likely carving across his skin, but his eyes open to you. They’re wild, alive in a way you can’t be.

The scent of his blood is earthy, rich, tantalizing—too much to set aside. What your flesh wants is secondary to the kind of lust that courses through you, black ink of nightshade in your veins.

Your fangs descend on reflex.

Your head moves fast, but your heart manages to win out the slightest bit; your sharp teeth nearly break the skin of his shoulder instead of tearing at his jugular, the way your instincts demand. A visceral cry for blood is trapped painfully in your throat. Your heart tears even more when you realize that you’ve failed. You couldn’t keep yourself away. You couldn’t stop yourself from—

Dean’s grip tightens in your hair, but he doesn’t bother to try and pull you back.

He just jabs the needle into your neck.

A full dose of dark crimson liquid seeps into your sluggish veins, making you gasp in pure shock. Though, you really should’ve known. Dead Man’s Blood.

Your limbs quickly fall beyond your control, and you slump against his shoulder. Your eyes begin to close, no matter how hard you fight to flutter them open. You can still hear his heart beating wildly, even as he holds you.

“Thought you were gonna take a chunk outta me, huh?” he remarks, with a flash of his wry smile. “Well, it’s been tried.”

Still, there’s more tenderness in his calloused hand when he sweeps your hair away from your cheek. He looks down at you with a note of devastation, apology, regret…but also determination. It furrows his brows and presses his lips into a line.

He sits up with you gathered in his arms, and he swiftly carries you out of this terrible old shed. It was the only place you could find in the city to hide yourself, to keep you away from living, breathing, movable feasts.

“It’s okay, baby. We found the cure,” he says. His voice is firm, reassuring, if holding the remnants of grit. “We’re gonna fix this. Just hold on…”

Your eyes have closed against your will, but his voice manages to move your heart that one inch. Hope.

Just hold on…

AN: Finally something short from me, right? 😂 Though it's actually the first time I've written a vampire reader. Felt like that's where the moodboard was leading me. 👌🏽

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[fuctacles]

everyone give it up for badly written smut!!! (this part is skippable if you don't wanna read it)

<< 20 | 0 | 22 >>

Eddie squeaks at the pressure of teeth on his shoulder, the fabric of his shirt dampening under Steve's mouth. He can feel him smile. 

The bites trail up until the safety of cotton ends and his mouth meets Eddie's bare neck.

He's not proud of the sound he makes. In fact, he had no idea he could even make one like that. 

Steve scrapes his teeth over the skin, like he's easing him into the actual bite, but it seems counterproductive, with the way it makes him shiver and hold his breath in anticipation. When it finally comes, he grasps at Steve's shirt and moans. 

He blinks his eyes open, mortified, but Steve doesn't seem to mind. His smiling lips press a soothing kiss to his skin, but that's so much worse. The need for more fights inside him with the instinct to hide, but he eventually bares his neck despite how overwhelmed he feels, opening himself for more bites and kisses. 

Steve actually growls. 

"Oh gods," Eddie whispers, clutching at him tighter. He can feel the heat pooling in his groin and begs his dick to chill the fuck out and not ruin this for him. 

His Adam's apple gets assaulted next, and he had no idea how sensitive it is until right now. Steve sucks on it briefly, but doesn't seem to like it, as he goes back to using his teeth almost immediately. He keeps moving up, until a particularly sharp bite lands on Eddie's jaw bone, feeling like a command. 

Eddie, feeling particularly obedient from Steve's ministrations, turns his head, hoping he's reading his non-verbal order right. 

His body both sags in relief and thrums with electricity when Steve bites into his lips with zero finesse but a lot of eagerness and impatience. He opens his mouth without thinking, so he can bite at his bottom and upper lip all he pleases. 

Before he can start feeling self-conscious about the pooling saliva threatening to unattractively spill down his chin, Steve captures his mouth and unceremoniously slips his tongue inside. 

Eddie moans, again, and Steve answers with a rumble deep in his chest that makes him want to offer himself on a silver plate. Belly up, do what you please with me. He eases the grip on his shirt, sliding his hand over the warmed cotton down to his hip to urge him closer, and Steve goes easily. Eagerly even, like he's been only waiting for permission to settle heavily on Eddie's lap. Now that they're pressed together, Eddie can feel his hot dick twitching against him. So maybe his own hard-on won't be ruining anything, considering how happily Steve grinds his ass against it. 

The kiss is nothing he expected from the King Steve he's heard of. It's sloppy and wet, full of eager tongues and teeth.

So. Much. Teeth.

Eddie's lips will be red and swollen after, like he's been sucking face with a vacuum, not an ex high school jock. 

He loves it. 

It's playful, almost like their play-fighting got to a new level. Steve bites, pulls away, and dives back in again, to sooth it with his tongue. And when Eddie starts biting back, his butt wiggles like he's trying to excitedly wag a tail that isn't there. 

What it does though, is bring the dick under him to full hardness. Eddie encourages the little movements with hands on his hips, and doesn't fight the involuntary thrusts his own pelvis makes. It's little to no relief, but he's okay to keep it like that, because he knows there will be more time to cover all the bases if they so please. 

Then, his mouth is left hanging open when Steve withdraws and bites his nose instead. Eddie giggles in surprise. 

"Can I? Can we?" Steve asks, rolling his hips down, Eddie's hard dick sliding between his cheeks, and his own grinding into the crease of his thigh. 

"Sure, yeah," Eddie nods, because there's no other answer he could give. Even if he's not sure what exactly Steve is asking for, but he'll find out soon enough anyway. 

And he does, when Steve keeps grinding on him, and reaches for the waistband of his shorts. He meets his eye to make sure it's okay, before dipping his hand inside. 

"Oh gods," Eddie whines, making him laugh. Steve has to raise up from his lap to get a hold of his dick, and he would mourns the loss, if it wasn't for the hand that wraps around him, squeezing and spreading precum and sweat over his shaft. 

With a bit of extra wriggling, they pull Eddie's shorts down, stretching the waistband over his thighs so his dick can stand freely between them. Steve's hand slows down as his gaze focuses on what he's doing, on the shiny head poking from his fist.

"Don't even think about biting it," Eddie jokes at his hungry stare, but he likes the view himself —Steve's big hairy hand wrapped around him. It feels unreal.

His breath stutters when the hand squeezes harder for a millisecond. 

"What about licking?" Steve shoots back playfully, licking his lips. 

Eddie's brain malfunctions, imagining the same lapping a dog would do, happening to his dick. He twitches under Steve's hold.

"Maybe next time?" he counters, feeling like he'd come at the smallest touch of a tongue. 

"Okay, next time," Steve agrees easily, resuming jerking him off. Once he gets to a rhythm he likes, he goes back to sucking on his lips, but is soon distracted by the hand cupping his dick. He moans into Eddie's mouth and helps him pull his own shorts down, too. 

His dick is scorching hot in Eddie's hand as he starts pumping with enthusiasm. Steve pants into his mouth, his own hand redoubling its efforts, and it's just gasps and whines and slick sounds of jerking off. Eddie loves it, and he palms at his ass to bring them even closer, resulting in little humping motion of his hips. He wants to cry from how turned on he is. 

When Steve starts nipping at his lips, jaw, and neck, seemingly without a plan or pattern, led by pure enthusiasm, Eddie comes with a choked sound. He twists his hand, hoping to bring him there too, and he must do something right, because the dick in his hand starts pulsing, there are teeth digging into his collarbone, and hips rutting into him desperately. 

When the weight on top of him shifts and he blinks his eyes open, he finds Steve licking his cum-stained palm exactly like he imagined he would. He whines, throwing the arm of his clean hand over his eyes. But when he feels Steve licking the fingers of his hand next, he peeks. 

Steve is lapping at his palm with long strokes, eyes half-lidded in concentration and contentment. His hips are still moving and if only Eddie could, he'd be hard again already. He groans, head falling against the back of the sofa. 

Steve's gonna be one horny dog to keep around. 

Tags: @noodle-shenaniganery @jaytriesstrangerthings @imaginary-maggie-eddie @samsoble @croatoan-like-its-hot @dragonmama76 @storyranger @scoops-aboy86 @ollyxar @estrellami-1 @stevesworldxx @ajeff855 @live-laugh-love-dietrich @thelittleclare @wheneverfeasible @bumblebeecuttlefishes @blasvemous @phantomcat94 @n33dlew0rk @manliest-of-muppets @ravenfrog @dreamercec @tartarusknight @eyehartart @ellietheasexylibrarian @im-sam-fucking-winchester

[whimsicalpolitical]

eiffel tower w ross and matty (please excuse me im ovulating)

18+mdni, really filthy

you don’t remember much between the club and the hallway- just that the music was loud, the drinks kept coming, and matty wouldn’t stop looking at you like he was already imagining you in his bed.

ross was quieter, bigger, darker in the corner of the room - but when his eyes met yours, you felt it low and deep and immediate.

now the door to matty’s hotel room shuts with a click, and you don’t even get the chance to breathe.

ross is on you like gravity.

he presses you against the door, one broad hand braced beside your head, the other already sliding up your thigh- deliberate, slow, until he’s hooking your leg around his waist like it’s nothing.

his mouth crashes into yours, tongue deep and claiming, and you moan into it, clutching his shoulders like you might fall through the floor.

he groans low and needy, muffled against your lips and grinds you back into the wood, like he can’t help himself.

matty exhales behind him, low and broken. “fuckin’ hell, ross. greedy prick.”

you gasp into the kiss when ross pulls back just enough to speak, “we’ve been watching you all night.“

you don’t answer. can’t. not with the way your legs feel like they’ve melted and your underwear is already clinging too tight.

matty steps up next to ross, warm and twitchy, fingers slipping beneath the hem of your dress. “she’s been watching back, haven’t you, sweetheart? all wide eyes and thighs clenched shut. so obvious.”

you nod. barely.

“good girl,” matty breathes, lips brushing your ear.

he smiles like a boy when he hears your breath hitch and walks further into the room again. your eyes can’t follow him though because ross is on you again.

he just mouths along your jaw, your neck, all hot breath and beard and muscle, pressing his hips tighter against you. you can feel him through his jeans, thick and hard and so ready it makes your head spin.

“fuck, ross,” you whisper, tilting your head to give him more.

“you feel what you’re doing to me?” he mutters, lips brushing your ear. “drivin’ me mad, love.”

matty’s behind ross, toeing off his boots, eyes fixed on you both like he’s watching the best kind of car crash.

“save some for me, big guy,” he says, grinning, breathless. “or at least let me see her.”

ross pulls back with a grunt but keeps his hand curled around your thigh, thumb rubbing just under the hem of your dress like a warning.

“go on then,” he says to matty.

matty’s on you in a second.

he cups your face in both hands, eyes flicking between yours like he’s already halfway gone. he’s flushed, pupils blown wide, hair a mess.

“you’re fucking gorgeous, y’know that?” he says, before he even kisses you. “stood there all night lookin’ like trouble.”

you open your mouth to respond, but he kisses you first - open, messy, so much tongue. his rings are cold against your jaw, and you gasp as he pulls your bottom lip between his teeth and bites.

ross hums behind you. “she likes that.”

“course she does,” matty grins, pulling back just enough to speak against your lips. “she’s fuckin’ shaking.”

you are. they’re right. your knees are barely holding you up, pinned between ross’s broad chest and matty’s wicked mouth. you're dizzy with it- the alcohol, the weed, the heat of two very different kinds of hunger on either side of you.

ross shifts infront you, breath steady against your neck, and says low, “you’ve got her?”

matty nods, one hand slipping from your waist to fully grip your thigh, holding you steady against him, basically taking over ross’ position, “got her,” he confirms, with that lopsided smirk that somehow makes you feel even more undone.

you already miss ross’s mouth- the roughness of it, the weight - and your eyes flick back to him like a magnet.

he catches you watching.

matty does too. he tsks quietly, leaning in to drag his lips along your cheekbone.

“what? i’m here, darling. eyes on me.”

you nod, a little dazed, and he grins like he’s won something. kisses you again- not as deep this time, but slower, dragging it out like he’s trying to remind you who’s right in front of you.

behind him, you hear movement- the subtle sound of fingers on buttons, the click of boots being kicked off, and then the mattress dips.

you glance into the room.

ross is on the bed now, shirt hanging open, boots gone. he’s sitting up against the headboard, long legs spread wide and dark eyes fixed only on you.

he doesn’t speak.

doesn’t need to.

matty pulls back from the kiss with a small, amused huff, and his fingers dip beneath the hem of your dress.

“off,” he says simply.

you blink. “what?”

“your pretty little dress, darling,” he purrs, eyes gleaming. “we want it off.”

you obey without thinking. your fingers tremble just a little as you pull down the zipper and let it drop to the floor.

you’re left in nothing but your black lace underwear, and suddenly, both of them are quiet.

matty gives a low whistle, tongue poking out between his teeth. “fuck me. that’s not even fair.”

ross doesn’t say a word, but his gaze is locked on your body, taking his time. his tongue drags over his bottom lip, jaw tense like he’s holding back.

matty winks over his shoulder. “you seeing this, mate?”

ross hums, “can’t take my eyes off her.”

“yeah,” matty agrees, looking you up and down. “figured that’d be your style.”

then he looks back at you and nods toward the bed.

“lay down,” he murmurs. “back against ross’s chest.”

you hesitate only a second before moving, stepping over to the bed as ross parts his thighs for you. he reaches out, guides you gently down between them, and you settle back against his chest.

his arms wrap around you instantly, warm and solid, and you melt.

he leans in, brushes your hair off your shoulder, kisses the skin there like he’s worshipping it.

“you look absolutely gorgeous,” he says, “fuckin’ perfect.”

you blush and can’t help but smile to yourself at his softness in this rough moment.

matty is standing in front of the bed, eyes drinking you in like he’s parched. then, without a word, he starts unbuttoning his shirt. slowly. teasingly. like he knows you’re watching.

which, of course you are.

he peels it off his shoulders, lets it fall behind him, and your breath catches at the sight. his tattoos, all ink and contrast against pale skin, scatter down his arms and chest, and it’s obscene how good he looks like that - flushed, hair still messily gelled back, silver chain catching the light at his collarbone.

behind you, ross exhales like he’s been holding it in.

“hot, isn’t he?” he murmurs against your ear.

you nod, lips parting. “yeah.”

ross chuckles, low and pleased, then shifts just enough to squeeze your side- firm, fingers digging in enough to make you squirm. “then you’re going to keep your eyes on him,” he says, not asking, not suggesting. “you understand?”

your breath hitches again, and you nod quick. “yes. i’m going to keep my eyes on him.”

“perfect,” ross says, and his mouth finds your neck again- kisses lazy and possessive. “just like that.”

matty’s grinning, hands planted on your knees now as he watches the exchange. “that’s what we like to hear.”

his voice dips into something silkier, and he lets one hand drift up your thigh.

“spread your legs, love.”

you do, without thinking- heart pounding, skin buzzing - and matty settles on his knees between them, dragging his palms up the insides of your thighs like you’re a meal he’s about to savor.

“fuck, you’re pretty,” he murmurs, dipping to kiss your knee first. then the other. slow, reverent.

ross’s hands stay on your waist, steadying you against him, and you can feel the weight of his gaze as matty mouths at your thighs, tongue flicking just barely against skin.

the sensation makes your breath stutter, hips twitch.

ross huffs a laugh and presses a kiss behind your ear.

“enjoying yourself?” he asks, though the answer’s obvious.

you nod, letting your head tilt back against his shoulder, legs trembling a little as matty kisses higher. and higher.

“we’re going to make you feel so good,” matty says, looking up at you with that sly smile. “you have us both, darling. it’s double the fun.”

ross hums. “and she likes it. look at her.”

it’s overwhelming in the best way: the way they touch you, speak to you, look at you like there’s no one else in the world. and all you can do is melt for them.

matty's mouth is on your thigh again, soft at first, like he’s thanking your body for letting him near it.

but then he sinks his teeth in just enough to make you jolt, and he grins against your skin when you gasp.

“you should look at her,” he murmurs, kissing higher. “she’s fuckin’ soaked.”

ross hums behind you, “yeah?”

“yeah,” matty says, mouthing over your panties, leaving a wet kiss right where you need him most. “absolutely fuckin’ ruined.”

you whimper, already pulsing under the weight of his mouth, and that’s when he pulls the lace down slowly, dragging it over your legs with infuriating patience. he doesn’t take his eyes off you once.

when he’s got them off, he doesn’t drop them, he looks at them. really looks, turning the fabric in his fingers like he’s studying a secret.

then he tosses them up toward ross.

ross catches them lazily.

rubs his thumb through the soaked spot and lets out a low, knowing laugh.

“jesus christ,” he says, leaning down to press a kiss to your cheek. “you’re absolutely dripping, darling.”

you can’t speak. your mouth’s open, panting, but your brain’s full of static.

matty settles between your thighs like he’s never going to leave- elbows under your knees, spreading you wider. locking you open.

but he doesn’t move. doesn’t dive in. just looks up at you with a smug little smirk, mouth right there, hot breath ghosting over you.

you writhe, just barely.

ross tightens his arm around your waist, still holding you steady against his chest.

“tell him what you want.”

you whimper. “please… want your mouth…”

matty’s eyes light up.

“you’ve got it, love,” he murmurs. “just gotta tell me where.”

you squirm. “matty- please…”

he grins, lazy and cruel. “on your cunt?”

your breath catches. “yes. please.”

ross presses his mouth to your temple and nods towards matty, “go on.”

and matty finally leans in.

his tongue slides through you like it’s second nature, slow and deep, and he groans against you like he means it.

his hands curl around your thighs, keeping you in place as he works, open mouth, tongue curling, lips wrapping around your clit until your whole body trembles.

behind you, ross’s hand slides behind your back, calm and unhurried, and then click, your bra comes loose. he slides the straps down your arms and tosses it aside.

“fuckin’ stunning,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing down from your collarbone, slow over your sternum, then lower, circling the swell of your breast. “keep looking at him. you stay right here with us.”

and you do, you can’t do anything else.

you're spread out between them, unraveling slowly, beautifully, with their hands and mouths all over you.

matty’s tongue moves in strokes, spreading you open with every pass, wide, flat licks through your folds, then the pointed tip circling your clit just enough to make you gasp. he shifts lower and drags the wet muscle all the way back up again, lips sealing around you and sucking gently.

you squirm in ross’s lap, legs trembling where they’re caught in matty’s grip. your hips jerk up without meaning to chasing every slick movement but ross’s hands catch you.

he drags one arm tight around your waist, anchoring you to his chest, and the other slides up your front, warm palm skating over your ribs, then higher, fingers curling around your breast.

he cups it, thumb brushing lazily over your nipple.

you gasp again, and he hums against your neck, his beard dragging over your skin as he kisses down your throat.

then he pinches your nipple, slow and steady, and you moan, a raw, breathy sound that makes matty groan in return, tongue flattening harder against you.

you feel completely undone.

“you can be as loud as you want,” ross encourages you, “don’t hold back, you sound so gorgeous.”

ross keeps working your chest, fingers rolling and rubbing, switching to your other nipple, all while he kisses and sucks at your neck. the scratch of his beard is dizzying, sending shivers down your spine every time it brushes your skin.

you tilt your head back toward him, aching for more contact, and find his mouth with yours.

he kisses you deep, tongue sliding over yours, and it’s messy and slow, his hand never leaving your breast.

between your thighs, matty doesn’t let up, his mouth locked onto you, tongue licking, sucking, his nose pressed just above your clit as he works deeper.

your hips buck again, instinctive and overwhelmed, but ross is quick, he moves both hands to your hips and holds you down, firmly, fingers pressing into your skin.

“stay still,” he murmurs against your lips, barely lifting his mouth from yours.

you try, you try to breathe, to stay present, but it’s too much.

matty’s tongue slides over your clit again, then flicks quickly, in a great rhtyhm. he moans into you and it sends another shockwave straight through your stomach.

ross kisses you again, but then pulls back, hand sliding up to your jaw.

he grips your chin and turns your face gently, guiding your attention back down.

“attention back to him,” he says, “or he’ll be jealous and starts whining ‘round.”

your gaze drops, dazed and needy, and matty looks up at ross with a death glare. ross chuckles and gives him a toothy grin.

matty’s eyes find your, “you taste like fuckin’ heaven,” he mutters, tongue dragging slow and deep one more time.

your thighs twitch. your back arches. ross keeps you still, hands holding you down, lips brushing your cheek again as his hand trails lightly from your jaw back down your chest over your breast, down your stomach, keeping you grounded in the heat of it all.

you can’t stop shaking.

matty doesn’t lift his mouth anymore, he’s knocking himself out.

his tongue moves in tight circles over your clit, the occasional drag down through your folds and back up again, like he’s memorized every spot that makes your legs tremble. his grip stays solid around your thighs, keeping you wide and open, his thumbs stroking gently over your skin like he’s soothing you while ruining you at the same time.

and then his hand slides lower.

he hooks one finger at your entrance and slowly pushes it in.

your hips twitch. your mouth drops open. you breathe in hard.

“matty,” you gasp. “matty-“

he hums into you, the vibration making you jolt.

his mouth doesn’t stop. his tongue stays on your clit, the same rhythm, just steady and intentional. like he knows exactly how close you are.

he curls his finger inside you and your thighs start shaking, one hand flying to grab at ross’s wrist where it’s still splayed across your chest.

“please- please don’t stop,” you beg, head tilting back against ross’s shoulder. “please, please-“

“shh, you’re alright,” ross murmurs against your jaw, “almost there, aren’t you?”

you nod frantically, squirming in his lap, hips rocking helplessly against matty’s mouth.

“give her one more,” ross says and you know he listens because you can feel it. matty pushes one more finger inside of you.

“you want to come?” he asks right in your ear. “want to fall apart for us?”

you nod again, nearly sobbing. “yes, yes- please.”

ross's fingers are still at your nipples, rubbing slow, circling, pinching gently just to keep the edge sharp.

he kisses your temple, then your jaw, then whispers, “beg us, darling.”

your voice breaks when you say it.

“please please, let me come. i want to, i need to- please, i’m so close-“

matty groans again, deep and filthy, mouth still locked on you, finger curling just right. he doesn’t change a thing. he just keeps going, dragging you right to the edge and holding you there.

“whenever you’re ready,” ross murmurs, kissing your neck again, fingers brushing over your peaked nipples. “go on. let go for us, sweetheart.”

“you’re doing so good,” matty mumbles against you, barely lifting his mouth. “so fuckin’ good. come for us, yeah? let us feel it.”

and that’s it.

your whole body goes tense, thighs shaking hard around matty’s head, a broken cry tearing from your throat as your orgasm crashes over you. they’re both there for it- ross holding you tight against his chest, his hand pressed flat to your belly to keep you grounded, and matty still licking, still working you through it like he doesn’t want to waste a single second of it.

your hips jerk, your legs quiver, and they don’t let go. they keep you open, shaking, moaning through it, until your body finally sags back into ross’s arms, breathless and dazed.

matty finally lifts his head, lips wet, chin glistening, and he looks up at you with that grin- smug and soft all at once.

ross kisses your cheek and strokes his hand up your side again, thumb brushing the underside of your breast as he holds you steady.

“so perfect,” he whispers. “such a good girl for us.”

you’re still trembling. your chest is rising and falling in shallow breaths, your skin slick with heat, legs slack across the bed, boneless in ross’s arms. but then matty crawls up the bed, moving over you like smoke with hungry eyes.

you shift to make room without even thinking.

matty settles on ross’s thigh, straddling it with casual need, like he’s done it a hundred times before. one of his hands rests lightly on your hip, grounding you, while the other lands on ross’s shoulder.

he leans in close, the heat between them thick enough to make your lungs stutter.

“wanna taste her?” matty asks.

ross doesn’t answer.

he just grabs matty by the neck and pulls him in hard.

the kiss is instant, deep, messy, full tongue.

matty groans into it, hand flying up to tangle in ross’s hair, gripping the bun at the nape of his neck and tugging until it loosens.

ross groans and opens wider for him, kissing him like he’s starving.

you can’t breathe. can’t look away.

watching matty grind ever so slightly against ross’s thigh, watching ross’s hand slide around his waist and pull him closer, you feel like you might pass out from how hot it is.

matty’s other hand slips down, over ross’s chest, across his stomach until he’s palming him through his trousers. his thumb drags a slow line, and he smiles into the kiss when ross exhales hard against his mouth.

ross’s hips twitch slightly under the pressure, and he lets out a quiet, breathless, “fuck.”

you’re blushing, burning, overwhelmed, and still somehow aching for them all over again.

when they finally break the kiss, their mouths are pink and swollen, breaths short.

ross glances at you, lips still parted, and says, “you do taste amazing.”

and before you can even respond matty turns to you, eyes glazed, and kisses you like he needs it to breathe.

he holds your face in both hands, curling into you with a soft groan, his mouth hot and urgent on yours.

you can still taste yourself on his tongue, the salt-sweet mess of it all making your head spin.

you can feel how bad he wants you, how hard he is, how desperate.

and ross is still behind you, watching you both with one hand on your thigh.

matty pulls back from the kiss, eyes dark and pupils blown wide, and then shifts, standing up on the bed with the lazy confidence of someone who knows you’re both watching him.

his fingers go to the button of his trousers, undoing them slow, the zip dragging down, his hips already pressing forward like he can’t wait to be free of the fabric.

he shoves them down with one hand, underwear with it, kicking them off onto the floor. he’s hard, flushed and he catches you looking.

ross doesn’t say a word.

he just grips your hips with both hands and lifts you, like you weigh nothing, like you’re a feather in his lap, gently setting you down beside him on the bed. it’s so casual, so strong the way he does it, that you can barely breathe.

you watch, wide-eyed, as he leans back against the headboard and starts undoing his own trousers. his black shirt is already open, hanging off his shoulders, chest broad and solid, dark hair scattered low across his stomach.

he pushes his pants and boxers off in one smooth motion, boots already gone, and you let out the softest gasp because they’re both fully hard, both big and aching and flushed and undeniably turned on.

matty laughs softly, biting his lip. “fuckin’ look at us,” he says, voice airy with amusement and want. he turns to you, eyes glinting. “you alright over there, sweetheart?”

you swallow, still caught in the heat of it. “yeah. better than alright.”

“yeah? you look like you want something.” he says and ross looks at you and you bite your lip.

“s’just hot when the two of you make out,” you confess.

“want a show?” matty asks and you immediately nod.

ross lifts a brow.

he glances at matty and nods a single tilt of his head.

matty doesn’t hesitate.

he straddles ross’s lap again, skin on skin now, their erections pressing against each other, cocks slick where they meet. he braces himself on ross’s shoulders and leans in for another kiss, this one slower, deeper, hungrier than before.

ross slides a hand around to matty’s lower back and the other into his curls, gripping the back of his head tight.

matty moans into his mouth and starts to grind down, hips rolling, dragging himself over ross’s cock, the friction wet and obscene. you can see every twitch of his thighs, the tension in his stomach, the way his jaw falls open between kisses.

“fucking… ross,” he gasps, hips stuttering, forehead pressed to his.

ross pulls at his hair and kisses him rough, biting at his bottom lip, and their cocks slide together, flushed and leaking, slick between their stomachs.

you’re watching all of it, completely still, jaw slack, heart pounding.

you’re so wet again, just from watching them fall apart like this, wrapped around each other, both of them so into it they almost forget you’re there.

almost.

because ross glances at you again, eyes hooded, breath short and smirks.

“turns you on, hm? watching us like that.”

“yes,” you breathe out.

ross strokes matty once, slow and purposeful, and it’s obscene- the way matty groans, hips twitching, forehead dropping to ross’s shoulder like he can’t take it. their bodies pressed together, cocks sliding wet and flushed, and ross just watches him with that maddening calm, lips parted slightly, breath heavy.

you’re barely breathing, your legs pressed together because your entire body is throbbing just from watching them.

then ross leans toward you, hand still wrapped around matty, and kisses you again. deep, unhurried, tasting of heat and sweat and want. he pulls back just an inch.

“you’ve got another wish?” he murmurs, thumb brushing your jaw.

you shake your head slowly, lips still tingling. “just need you. b-both, need you both,” you repeat.

they both groan.

matty leans back, eyes flicking from you to ross, mouth curved in a dazed, breathless smile.

ross’s voice drops lower, like smoke curling at the base of your spine. “on all fours for us, love.”

you move without thinking. your knees are sliding over the sheets, chest still flushed from the last orgasm, your arms a little shaky but your body aching with need. you brace yourself on your hands, breath catching when the air kisses your bare skin.

you can feel the bed shift behind you as ross sits up, and you glance over your shoulder just in time to see matty still straddling ross’s thigh, looking debauched and blissed out.

ross tilts his head at him, gives a low hum, then “off.”

his palm lands heavy on matty’s hip as he says it. “c’mon. let’s focus on our girl.”

matty grins, a little lazy, a little high, and climbs off ross’s thigh, cock flushed against his stomach, skin glowing. he crawls up to face you, settling on his knees with that familiar look of hungry worship in his eyes.

“fuckin’ hell,” he mutters, taking you in like he hasn’t already had you trembling under his tongue. “you’re so pretty like this.”

he leans in, pressing a kiss to your lips, hands on your jaw,gentle even. his cock brushes against your chin, but he’s not pushing, just being close. wanting you to want him.

behind you, you feel ross’s hands as he kneels up, one spreading over your lower back, the other cupping your hip like he owns it.

you can’t see him, and that’s the worst part, the unknown of what he’s about to do, the weight of his presence behind you.

you’re trapped in the thickest kind of want, matty in front of you, all flushed skin and steady breath, and ross behind you, large and quiet and terrifyingly in control.

“god, look at you,” matty murmurs, one hand sliding to cup your jaw, thumb stroking your cheek. “all ready for us.”

ross leans in and kisses the back of your neck, just once and then he speaks, voice deep and honeyed.

“stay just like that. we’ll take care of you.”

matty’s thumb brushes the corner of your mouth as he gazes down at you, his pupils blown, chest rising in shallow, eager breaths.

“open up, love,” he says,“you want it, don’t you?”

you nod.

you don’t even hesitate, “yes. want it bad, matty.”

his breath stutters a little, eyes flicking over your face, the curve of your lips, the way your tongue barely peeks out in anticipation.

“fuckin’ hell,” he mutters, wrapping one hand around the base of his cock. “you’re unreal.”

he guides it toward you slowly and you part your lips wider, letting the tip slip in warm and heavy against your tongue.

just half of him fits at first, stretching your mouth open, and matty groans, eyes fluttering. “oh, love- yeah. yeah, that’s it. fuck, your mouth’s perfect.”

his hips twitch but he holds still, breathing hard, eyes starting to roll back.

ross is behind you, still kneeling, his hands steady on your hips, just holding you in place, grounding you. watching everything.

you moan around matty’s cock, the weight of it, the taste of him, the praise, everything and the vibration makes matty’s thighs tense.

then ross speaks, low and calm, but firm.

“same rules for you, matty. look at her.”

it slices clean through the haze.

matty’s head jerks forward a little, eyes snapping down to meet yours, and his jaw slackens when he sees you there, lips stretched around him, your eyes glossy and locked on his.

he whimpers, actually whimpers and cups your cheek, thumb stroking lightly.

“jesus christ, sweetheart,” he breathes. “you look so fuckin’ good.”

ross hums approvingly behind you, his thumbs tracing lazy circles over the sides of your hips.

ross’s hand shifts from your hip, and then-

you feel it.

his fingers dragging through the wet between your thighs. slow at first, just teasing, just smearing it up, and then one circles over your clit and you jolt, gasping around matty’s cock.

that little movement makes matty sink deeper into your mouth, still not all the way, but enough that he groans, loud and wrecked, one hand flying to your hair to hold. not rough, just... possessive.

“shit,” he pants, looking down at you with blown eyes. “she just- ross, fuck-“

ross hums low behind you. pleased. he keeps his fingers there, rubbing in slow, messy circles, like he’s just playing with how wet you are.

“unbelievable,” he says, “you’re this wet for us.”

you try to nod, mouth still full, throat working around the weight of matty, and ross just keeps going until he pulls his hand away and you feel it again, this time lower. firmer. the press of his cock, hot and thick, nudging right up against your entrance.

you gasp again, this helpless little noise, and matty moans above you.

ross leans in, one hand on your back now, rubbing slow.

“you ready for me, love?”

you moan around matty. it’s a yes. it’s all yes.

matty swears again, hips twitching, just watching your eyes roll back.

ross nods behind you, you can’t see it, but you feel it in the way his body shifts.

and then he eases forward.

not fast. just a slow, careful push, teasing the tip into you thick, and hot, and stretching you already.

he groans under his breath. not loud, just this low sound from his chest, like he’s trying to stay in control.

“fuckin’ perfect,” he murmurs. “easy now, sweetheart.”

you’re shaking and matty’s breathing hard, one hand gripping your hair, the other gently stroking your jaw as you take him.

matty goes tense above you, his breath stalling, hands gripping your hair tighter than before. his thighs tremble where they’re folded underneath him, and his cock twitches on your tongue, heavy and hot.

“fuck,” he breathes, low and tight, like he’s trying to will himself not to lose it. “she’s so good- fuck.”

ross watches from behind you, still teasing at your entrance with the thick, deliberate slide of his tip. he hums “don’t even think about it, matty.”

matty whines. actually whines.

ross chuckles. “don’t come.”

“m’not,” matty huffs, eyes flicking down to yours, wide and pleading. “promise. i won’t. she just feels- fuck, she’s so warm, mate.”

ross just nods, fully believes him. he leans down, pressing a soft kiss to the curve of your ass, lips dragging over your skin as he mutters, “we’ve ruined you, haven’t we?”

and then he pushes in. slowly. just a few inches.

you moan, loud and immediate, around matty’s cock. your arms shake. your back arches into the stretch, into the burn. it’s so much he’s thick, and the pace is slow, dragging out the first few inches

your mouth slips lower on matty in the same breath, and he gasps, head snapping back, curls clinging to his forehead.

ross stills behind you, just letting you feel it, the weight of him inside, the ache, the way your cunt pulses around him. he watches your body adjust, his palm rubbing slow circles at the small of your back.

“what’s that, love? feels so good you’ve forgotten about his cock now?”

you can’t even respond, can barely breathe, let alone speak. but matty answers for you, voice hoarse.

“don’t be a selfish dickhead.”

ross grins behind you, not at all bothered. “i’m not.” he strokes down your spine again, “i won’t move unless she does.” he leans closer, “you hear me, love?”

you nod, barely, and the effort makes your mouth shift again, lips sliding further around matty’s cock.

his breath stutters, hand tightening in your hair, and he lets out this broken, beautiful sound.

and it’s too much, not enough, everything at once. you moan helplessly around matty’s cock, eyes wet, and pull back just enough to gasp, “more. ross.”

he stills behind you.

you can feel the smile on his face.

“greedy,” he mutters.

but he still gives you what you asked for.

he pushes in the full length of him sliding deep, until his hips are flush with yours. your knees buckle a little. your whole body clenches, overwhelmed.

ross groans low. “fuck.”

the sound of it does something to matty, something instant.

he thrusts into your mouth once, hard and quick, like he lost control just watching.

you gag, throat tightening, and your hands fly to his thighs for balance. your eyes water, lips stretched, and he gasps, pulling you off.

“shit, sorry, love. breathe-”

you do. just a few seconds, messy inhale, your mouth slick and open and wet, your chest heaving-

and then he’s in you again. not as deep, but insistent. he needs it.

ross watches it all, still buried deep inside you, unmoving.

his hand strokes up your back, his palm wide, grounding you again.

“such a perfect girl,” he murmurs. “so good to matty. so good to me.”

he pulls back, just a few inches, and then drives back in. slow and full, hips pressing right back against yours with a groan so low it vibrates down your spine.

your whole body shifts with it. pushed forward into matty’s cock again, into the heat of their hands and mouths and voices.

and all you can do is take it.

ross starts to move.

not slow anymore. not teasing.

he pulls out a little more this time, then snaps his hips forward, driving back into you with a solid thrust that rocks your whole body forward and pushes you deeper around matty’s cock.

you moan around him, loud and raw, your throat vibrating and your knees wobbling beneath you.

ross grips your hips with both hands now, big palms sliding rough over your skin, possessive. he holds you steady like you’re his, like he’s staking claim, and you can feel the tension in his arms, how hard he’s working not to lose rhythm.

he groans again. “fuck, look at her.”

matty tries but he can barely keep it together. his mouth open, chest flushed. his hand is tangled in your hair, guiding you over him, his cock wet and glistening from your mouth.

“you’re so sexy,” he pants, voice cracking. “you feel so fuckin’ good, love. taking us both. you love it, don’t you?”

you whimper, mouth full, eyes shining. you can’t answer, but it’s written all over your face.

matty just strokes your cheek and watches you fall apart.

behind you, ross moves again. another deep thrust, then another. his pace building, hips snapping hard against yours, skin on skin.

his grip tightens.

and then- he lets go.

just for a second.

his hands lift from your hips and reach forward- not to you, but to matty.

“give me your hands,” he orders.

matty blinks, like he wasn’t expecting it-but he gives in immediately, letting ross take both of his wrists.

ross laces their fingers together,big, rough hands curled over matty’s ones, and pulls their joined arms down over your back.

matty groans, hips jerking as you take him deeper, voice shaking now. “jesus christ-”

ross leans in behind you, breath warm at your ear.

“we’ve got you, love,” he says, thrusting deep again. “just like this.”

ross is driving into you like he means it, like he owns it, and the slap of his hips meeting yours is all heat and filth and sound. your knees shift, struggling to hold you up, but you don’t fall.

matty’s not doing much better. he’s panting, swearing under his breath, his cock twitching in your mouth as you try to keep taking him, your jaw aching and your spit sliding down your chin.

“shit- i’m, can’t-” he chokes, hips jerking forward again.

ross growls, low and warning, behind you.

“you’ll wait.”

matty whines but nods. doesn't even try to argue. because no matter how out of control he gets, he listens when ross talks like that.

and then ross lets go of his hands.

his right hand drops, trails from your spine down to your ass, to where he’s disappearing inside you with every thick, punishing thrust. and then he shifts forward, hips rolling deeper, until he finds your clit.

his fingers are rough when they land there, already wet from your slick and he starts circling your clit and your whole body jolts.

you whine around matty, eyes fluttering shut, thighs shaking.

ross hums like he expected it. like he lives for it.

“that’s it,” he murmurs, voice right at the base of your neck. “you feel it now?”

and you do, his cock hitting deeper, his hand on your clit, matty in your mouth and groaning above you like he’s seconds from losing it.

“she’s- fuck, mate, she’s shaking,” matty breathes, hand trembling at the back of your head. “feels too good, she’s- oh my god-”

ross just smirks and circles again, slower this time.

“she can take it.”

and you do. even when your body’s begging, even when your moans are shaking through both of them.

“you feel that?” ross mutters, right up against your shoulder, “you’re dripping all over me, sweet girl.”

his cock grinds deep again, then stills, buried full inside you while his fingers keep moving in a perfect pace.

you gasp, thighs twitching, and matty moans and everything’s heightened.

“jesus, fuck,” he whines, eyes half-lidded, fucking desperate now. “baby, you- you’re trying to kill me, fuck.”

your mouth stretches wider around him, lips slick and shiny, and he presses a hand flat to the side of your face, his thumb sliding over your cheekbone. his other hand fists in your hair, not rough, just steady, holding you close as his hips roll slow against your tongue.

he’s panting now. eyes glassy. his entire body is locked up and trembling.

“you’re- you’re christ,” he stammers. “so bloody gorgeous like this. messy mouth, taking me so well while ross- fuck-”

ross groans behind you, low and amused, his fingers still expertly working your clit.

“you’re losing it,” he mutters to matty, cock still buried in you, his thrusts reduced to slow, deep rolls. “you’re about to fall apart and she hasn’t even come yet.”

matty swallows hard, his hand slipping from your face to his own thigh. trying to ground himself. trying not to shake.

“i’m fine,” he says, but his voice is fucked. wrecked. he’s not fine.

ross chuckles, lips brushing your spine. “sure you are. look at her though. she’s holding it better than you.”

you’re not holding it better than him. not really. your knees are shaking, your arms starting to give, and the constant pressure on your clit has your stomach tight and your moans spilling out helplessly around matty’s cock. every thrust pushes you further into him. every circle pulls you closer to that unbearable high.

“please,” you manage to whisper around him, barely audible, your eyes fluttering up.

matty hears it. feels it.

he hisses, dragging his cock out just far enough for you to breathe, then rests it against your lips, dragging it slow and wet across your tongue.

“what, baby?” he murmurs, eyes dark. “what do you need?”

your hips roll back against ross instinctively and he grabs them tight, groaning as he slides deeper again, keeping his fingers steady.

“use your words,” ross says. “you want us to let you come?”

you whine, nodding. you’re breathless, aching, right there and still not allowed to fall.

“not yet,” matty says, brushing hair from your face with the back of his hand. “you’re so close, but not yet.”

“just want to watch you like this a little longer,” ross adds, voice low and dangerous. “watch you fall apart.”

it happens fast now.

you feel it before matty says a word. the way his rhythm stutters, how his hips jolt uneven, like he can’t keep the control any longer. his breath is caught, then torn out of him all at once, a broken gasp of your name choked down between his teeth.

ross doesn’t even have to look, he knows.

“you there?” he says while hissing at your cunt clenching.

matty’s voice cracks. “fuck, yeah- i can’t- i’m there, i’m there-”

ross chuckles, pleased. “let it happen, then. she’ll take it.”

you do.

matty’s cock twitches against your tongue, thick and flushed, and you open up for him, eager, swallowing every desperate drop like you were made for it. your eyes are still watery, spit glossy down your chin, and you look up at him- watch his lips part, his brows pull, his entire body coming undone with a whimper.

“jesus christ,” he gasps, hips bucking one last time, already too sensitive. “you’re- i can’t. oh my god-.”

ross doesn’t stop.

his thrusts are heavier now, dragging your soaked cunt back onto his cock over and over while his fingers work your clit in tight, devastating little circles that won’t let up and the dual stimulation, the fullness, the taste of matty still on your tongue is too much.

you whine, high-pitched and trembling, lifting your face as matty slips from your lips.

“ross- please,” you cry, body shaking. “please, i’m- i’m so close-“

matty stares at you, dazed, still catching his breath, but he leans in, hand brushing your cheek.

“so fucking gorgeous begging,” he breathes, still smiling, eyes soft and lit up with awe. “fuck, i want to frame you like this.”

ross groans behind you.

“such a perfect girl,” he says.

his thumb presses harder, perfect on your clit, and his cock grinds deep over and over. you feel every ridge, every inch, dragging against your walls, teasing that release.

“you’ve earned it, haven’t you?” he murmurs, breath hot at your back, his hand tightening over your hip again. “so fucking good for us all night. took it all. held back when we told you.”

you nod, breath catching.

“say it,” he says. “you want to come?”

you nod again, pleading, your voice barely there. “yes, yes. need it so bad. please ross.”

ross kisses your spine, his beard rough against your skin, still moving in you just right.

“then go on, darling,” he whispers, right into your skin. “come for us.”

and you do. you come hard.

it hits like a wave crashing. your whole body is tightening, a sharp cry caught in your throat, hands gripping the sheets, legs shaking. everything locks up, then melts, your head dropping, back arching as the release floods through you.

ross holds you steady, his hand pressing firm to your lower back as he works you through it. his cock stays deep, his fingers softening their pace on your clit, but not letting go completely, not until he’s sure you’ve wrung every last tremble from the peak.

matty watches you like he’s been knocked breathless all over again.

“fuck me,” he whispers, “you’re the prettiest fucking thing i’ve ever seen.”

his hand trails over your face, fingers brushing over your cheek. you hum, still catching your breath, the aftershocks fluttering through you in little waves.

ross is the last to fall.

“fuck,” he mutters, more to himself than to you, voice strained now. “you’re still so tight. clenching around me like you don’t want to let me go.”

you whimper, body too soft to do anything but nod, hips twitching back into his.

he leans forward, hand trailing from your spine to your jaw, turning your head slightly, just enough to kiss the corner of your mouth. then he mutters against your cheek, breath heavy

“where do you want me, love?”

your eyes flutter open. matty’s watching you, his fingers brushing hair from your face again, and you feel it like heat rising in your chest, your belly.

you don’t hesitate.

“inside,” you whisper. “please. need you inside.”

ross groans, a sound deep from his chest. his fingers flex on your skin like he’s holding back from sinking in rough and fast.

“you’re so filthy,” he murmurs, his tone more awe than judgment. “our pretty girl. look at you.”

matty grins, pressing a kiss to your jaw. “can’t get enough of us, can you?”

you shake your head, wrecked and wanting all over again.

ross doesn’t warn you, he doesn’t need to.

you feel the way his breath catches, the way his grip tightens, fingers digging into your hips and going rigid inside of you.

he thrusts deep one last time and stays there, body trembling, forehead pressed to your shoulder, his groan is low and wrecked as he gives in.

if he weren’t holding you up, you'd go limp.
your knees don’t work. your back’s useless. you’re all pulse and heat and afterglow, the inside of your thighs sticky, your skin flushed and humming.

he stays like that for a moment. both of them do.

matty’s still beside you, eyes fixed on your face like he’s memorizing every shift in expression. his hand strokes gently up and down your fheek, grounding you.

ross finally moves, exhales deep through his nose, then slowly, carefully pulls out of you. you make a small, needy sound at the loss, and his hands immediately slide down to hold your hips, steady you.

“easy,” he murmurs, voice still hoarse.

he lays you down with him, pulling you effortlessly into his side like he’s claimed you, his palm warm and broad against your belly. then he reaches up, grabs matty by the back of the neck and pulls him down into a kiss.

it’s a little messy, but slow now and sated. and there’s something soft in it too, a shared high, like they’re proud of each other.

“you were so good,” ross says against matty’s lips. “watched you fall apart. loved it.”

matty grins, “yeah?”
he glances down at you, eyes glowing. “she’s the one who deserves all the credit.”

ross hums. he turns to you next, brushing your hair back, and then leans in to kiss you too, fingers cradling your jaw. not rushed, not greedy. just full of praise.

“you were perfect,” he whispers. “so, so good for us.”

you hum because you can’t really say anything else. your whole body feels warm and wrecked and floaty like your bones have melted, like gravity’s only a suggestion.

you barely notice when matty slips out from the bed, soft kiss to your temple before his weight lifts off the mattress. the light in the bathroom clicks on, casting a soft glow across the floor, and you hear water running, the quiet rustle of a towel.

ross doesn’t move much, just shifts to your side, pulling the sheets halfway up your legs, and lets his hand rest gently on your thigh. he watches you, heavy-lidded, face unreadable except for that subtle pull of softness around his mouth.

you blink slow at him. “m’tired,” you murmur.

he brushes your hair back. “i know, love. you’ve done so well.”

matty comes back, washcloth damp and warm in his hand, and the bed dips again under his weight. he’s gentle when he reaches for you, delicate, like handling something too precious to rush. your body twitches when he touches between your thighs, and ross’s hand steadies you instinctively, spreading your legs with quiet care so matty can work.

“shh,” matty soothes, his voice barely above a breath. “it’s alright. m’ almost done. promise.”

you nod against the pillow, eyes fluttering closed again, too gone to respond properly but trusting him, letting them take care of you like they always do.

ross’s voice comes low and warm. “c’mere.”

matty looks up, eyebrows raised slightly. “you sure?”

ross just nods, holding out a hand. matty lets the cloth fall onto the floor and then climbs back in beside you, tucking into ross’s side with a quiet sigh, his arm slung easily over your waist.

you're caged in warmth. ross behind you, matty in front, the weight of their limbs grounding, anchoring.

“that’s better,” ross says.

matty kisses your cheek. “you were amazing,” he tells you, “like... actually perfect. really.”

you manage a half-smile, half-dreamy, too relaxed to say much more than a quiet, “you both were, too.”

ross leans in and kisses your hairline, “go to sleep, darling. we’ve got you.”

matty adds,“we’re not going anywhere.”

[woozinhos]

hiiiiii!! can u plz do when the child interrupts with mingyu? thx<3

Few Minutes|| Kim Mingyu x Reader

Mingyu watches you from the doorway of the nursery, his eyes dark with desire as he watches you rocking your son to sleep. The way you look so maternal and caring is driving him wild, and he's having a hard time controlling himself.

"He's almost asleep," you whisper, glancing up at him with a tired smile. "I just need to get him down." Mingyu takes a step into the room, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. "You're so good with him," he says, his voice low and rough. "It's... driving me crazy." You give him a knowing look, aware of the effect you're having on him. "Just give me a few more minutes," you say, turning your attention back to the baby.

Mingyu can't wait that long. He moves closer to you, pressing himself against your back as he watches you continue to soothe the baby. "I need you," he murmurs, his breath hot against your ear. "Now." Despite your best efforts to focus on the baby, you can feel Mingyu's erection pressing against your backside, and your own desire starts to build.

"Mingyu, he's almost asleep," you say softly, trying to keep your voice steady. "Just a little longer." Mingyu's hands slide around your waist, pulling you closer against him. "I can't wait," he whispers, his lips trailing along your neck. "I need to feel you now." His hands move down to cup your breasts through your shirt, his fingers teasing your sensitive nipples. "Look at how full you are," he says, his voice filled with desire. "So beautiful."

You bite your lip to hold back a moan, your body responding to his touch even as you try to focus on the baby. "Please," you whisper, torn between wanting to give in and wanting to finish putting your son to bed. Mingyu's tone leaves no room for argument, and you quickly place the baby in his crib, tucking him in gently before hurrying out of the room.

As soon as you're in the bedroom, Mingyu pushes you against the wall, his hands pinning your wrists above your head. "You have no idea how hard it's been watching you," he growls, pressing his body against yours. He claims your lips in a fierce kiss, his tongue invading your mouth as he devours you. His hands roam over your body, squeezing and kneading your flesh possessively.

"You're mine," he says between kisses. "My girl , my baby's mother. And I need to claim you right now." Mingyu's lips trail down your neck, leaving a hot trail of kisses as he moves to your collarbone. He nips at your sensitive skin, marking you as his own.

"You smell so good," he murmurs, his hands moving to undo the buttons of your shirt. "Like milk and honey." As your shirt falls open, he groans at the sight of your breasts, already full and leaking from feeding the baby. "Look at you," he says, his eyes dark with lust. "So ready to be filled again." He kneels in front of you, burying his face between your breasts.

Mingyu pulls back, his mouth wet and swollen from sucking your nipples. "Get on the bed," he commands, his voice hoarse with need. "Now." You quickly move to obey, lying down on the bed and watching as Mingyu strips off his clothes. His hard cock springs free, already dripping precum.

He crawls onto the bed, settling between your legs and spreading them wide. "So beautiful," he says again, tracing a finger over your pussy. "Still so wet for me, even after everything." Mingyu freezes, his cock still only halfway inside you as the sound of your son crying breaks the moment. "Damn it," he mutters, frustration evident in his voice.

He pulls out slowly, gritting his teeth as he stands up. "I'll go check on him," he says, already moving towards the door. You sit up on the bed, trying to catch your breath and calm your racing heart. The sound of Mingyu soothing the baby can be heard from the nursery, and you can hear him talking softly to him.

"Shh, it's okay little one," Mingyu is saying. "Daddy's here." Mingyu walks back into the bedroom with your son in his arms, looking sheepish. "He won't stop crying," he says apologetically, bouncing the baby gently. You hold out your arms, and Mingyu carefully transfers the baby to you. The moment he's in your arms, the crying stops, and he snuggles against your chest.

Mingyu watches with a mixture of desire and resignation as you breastfeed the baby. "Looks like our alone time is over," he says with a sigh, sitting down on the bed beside you. Despite the interruption, there's a softness in his eyes as he watches you care for your son. "You're such a good mother," he murmurs, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

"I know," you say softly, smiling at Mingyu as you cradle the baby. "But he needs me right now." Mingyu leans his head against yours, his expression tender despite his obvious frustration. "You're amazing," he whispers, pressing a kiss to your temple. "And I'll wait. For as long as it takes."

The baby continues to nurse contentedly, and Mingyu stays beside you, his hand rubbing soothing circles on your back. "We'll have our time," he promises, watching the peaceful scene with a gentle smile.

[themusingsofacurlyhairednerd]

Ludos Imperiales 12

A/N: Me posting on schedule for once?? And finally adding a Cassian moment??

Content Warning: Descriptions of Injuries, Mentions of Blood/Torture/Slavery

Previous Chapter/Masterlist

-----------------

Cassian’s sitting up when I return in the late afternoon the next morning with enough mirthroot to get half the city high, his eyes bloodshot, rimmed with circles so dark I’m not convinced they aren’t bruises. 

“You haven’t slept,” I say by way of greeting. 

A shadow of stubble already crawls across his dirt streaked face, as if time is passing faster for him than for the others. Azriel’s wounds are the worst. They’d taken that flagrum to his already broken wings and I’m shit out of luck with how to treat such delicate limbs. I’d bandaged them best I could last night, and have come back this morning with enough coin to bribe the Arena’s healer into doing what I can’t, the least I can do is ease the other’s pain while they wait for their turn to be properly looked at. 

Cassian’s gaze drags to me like his eyes are made of lead. He’d let me touch his wings last night out of necessity, the bandages I’d set in place barely clinging on now. Sometime in the last couple of hours he’d managed to crawl into an upright position so he could watch the door, a fresh wave of blood dribbling down his sides to form a small puddle in the mud beneath him. “‘M fine.”

I approach slowly. He hadn’t said a word other than “fuck me” from the pressure of the bandages last night, had just gritted his teeth and accepted that I was the only one coming to help ensure he kept his wings. It was abundantly clear he’d allowed it out of necessity. Now that he can hear the healer making a fuss in Azriel’s cell, I’m unsure how necessary he’ll think I am.

“I brought something to help with the pain,” I say as I kneel in front of him. 

He watches me like I’m a snake coiled to strike. “Give it to Az.”

I place a worn leather satchel between us, the lip falling away to reveal a bottle of temetum and the multiple packs of mirthroot I’d acquired. His hazel eyes flick briefly to the bottle of undiluted wine before coming back to me. A move that would have been harder to track if he wasn’t so exhausted.

“I’ve got plenty to share. Take your pick.”

“Wine would be nice, I guess.”

At least he’s speaking to me. I uncork the bottle and hold it out to him. Finding cups was too time consuming, I’d figured they’d need a lot anyway, the three of them could easily finish off the bottle. 

He tries to take it, arm muscles so tight they’re shaking, but he can’t lift his arm very high off the floor before his face twists in pain. The whip had torn through both his wings and his back, it must have hit muscle somewhere. 

I move despite my better judgement, a hand on his bicep to steady him as he bites down on his lip to keep quiet. “Shit, here, let me help you.” I bring the bottle to his lips and tip it back, letting the crimson colored liquid slip slowly over the top.

I’ve never been more aware of him. The underlying scent of snow-chilled wind and crackling embers, heavy even under the coppery scent of blood and sweat clinging to his skin. The sheer size of him, every bit of him hard and sculpted for battle. I knew it; I’d seen it in action, but I was practically in his lap, watching every swallow he took as he drank the wine down like it might be his last chance at tasting it, and I realized I’d never been so close.

When I pull the bottle away from his cracked lips to let him catch his breath, his head falls forward just enough that for the briefest of moments, our foreheads touch. A breath shakes out of him, labored and heavy, and pained. 

Instinctively, the hand not holding the bottle reaches up to push a loose strand of sweat slicked hair off his cheek, where it falls in his eyes. His stubble is rough against the smooth skin of my palm, my fingertips gently tracing the swell of his cheek as I tuck it behind his ear. He doesn’t protest my touch like I expect him to.

“Thank you,” he whispers before pulling away. 

I want more. Damn me! Now that I’ve had a taste I can’t stop myself from wanting to trace more of him with my fingertips. I want to feel those damaged lips on mine, chasing the taste of wine away with my tongue. 

I lean back on my heels instead. “Do you want the mirthroot?”

Azriel screams from his cell, reality chasing away any lingering fantasies about what we can do down here. The bond echoes with his pain as the Healer calls for the Guard to help hold Azriel down so he can work. 

“Go help him,” Cassian says instead. “Please.”

Having them all in one place would make this so much easier, but I doubt we’ll ever be that lucky again. The odds are leaning towards individual matches in the future, I doubt the Emperor will ever let the mistake of letting them save each other happen again. 

Azriel’s screaming is getting more intense by the second and Cassian looks like he might try to stand and go to him if I don’t, so I make quick work of shouldering my way into Azriel’s quickly crowding cell. Two Guards have come to hold him down by the shoulders; his thrashing has knocked off most of the bandages I’d placed last night, blood flowing freely from the tattered membrane. His wings look like an old, tattered piece of cloth.

Between the three males, they’ve managed to get Azriel off the floor and onto the iron bunk welded to the wall, but the movement must have been excruciating because there’s a fresh puddle of vomit on the floor. I have to skirt around it to crouch in front of Az, where his chin sits against the edge of the bunk. 

I take his face in my hands. “Look at me.” His skin is hot to the touch, sweat dripping down his forehead as his body tries to fight off an infection.

He drags his eyes open, scarred hands fumbling to take hold of my wrists. “Make it stop. Make them stop.” He begs.

My heart clenches painfully tight in my chest. “They’re going to help you.”

His grip on my wrists is a vice as he tries to shake his head, the chain around his throat rattling. It has effectively cut him off from his shadows, the little creatures nowhere to be found now. The loss of their ever constant presence must feel like losing a limb. “Don’t let them take my wings!”

The fever’s making him delirious, but his panic is very much a real, thrashing thing down the bond. “They’re not going to take your wings, I promise.”

“I need to get to work-” the Healer starts.

“Shut up,” I hiss. “You didn’t even try to give him something for the pain first!” A bit of my darkness seeps out of my heels, hissing along the floor like their appearance might make up for my mate’s lack of shadows. 

The cell trembles around us, dust raining down from the ceiling. I don’t try to reign it in this time. The Guard will tell the Emperor about this, and I will tell him it’s all part of my plan. 

With some bullying of the guard I get my hands on some hot rocks in order to diffuse some of the mirthroot faster, letting the vapor rise like incense off the edge of the bunk. The smoke clouds the area around Azriel’s head, the high almost immediate. His hazel eyes glaze over, body relaxing as he slumps on the bunk.

I drift my fingers through his hair. “You’re going to be ok.” This is not the time to cry. The amount of things shooting down my bond with all three of them is a lot when they’re in this state, it’s taking everything I have to keep my own emotions in check, to not be swept away in the tidal wave of pain and fear that threatens to drag me under. 

I give myself a little shake. I have to be strong for them. “The Healer will help.”

Azriel groans, scarred hand reaching up to brush absent patterns along my wrist. “Hurts,” he slurs against the effects of the mirthroot.

“I know. It’ll be over soon.” I motion the Healer back over with my chin and the male has the good sense to look a little hesitant in getting so close to me.

I reign my darkness back in, little by little until it’s gone. The Guards share a look and I know this will get back to my Father eventually. I’ll have to be clever in my explanation; better yet, I should save myself the headache and go over to the Palace once I’m done here. It’ll keep me ahead, let me spin the narrative in a way that doesn’t make me look so bad in his eyes.

The Healer starts working and I instinctively intertwine my fingers with my mate, letting him squeeze as hard as he needs as the male starts dripping oils down his raw back. When Azriel whimpers in pain again, I set more mirthroot over the hot rocks. Everyone in the cell’s going to be high as hell by the time it’s all said and done, but it keeps Azriel from screaming, his breathing even as he drifts in and out of consciousness. 

Even as he starts to doze off, he doesn’t let go of my hand, his grip still firm and steady. I use my free hand to trace the grooves and ridges of his scars, the pattern like a map of valleys and hills. I wonder if he can even feel my touch, or if his nerves are permanently fried. I’d never thought to ask.

“Such delicate things, wings,” the Healer muses as he works. “You’d think something meant to carry a body this large would be less fragile.”

I tear my gaze away from Azriel’s hands to glare at him. “You will save them.” There is no room for debate here. 

The Healer rolls his eyes at me. “Sound like your Father.”

“Then you know what’s at stake if you mess this up,” I hiss in return. I won’t let the sting of the insult land. If that’s the monster I have to make myself out to be to ensure they are healed, so be it. There is no depth in Hel I won’t descend to to ensure their survival.

Azriel’s fully dozing now, his breathing even, body relaxed. I genuinely don’t know how he has the strength to still be holding my hand. 

The Guards leave when they see they’re not needed, I can hear them tormenting the other gladiators down the hall. 

The Healer makes slow work, between weaving strands of glittering magic along the frayed ends of Azriel’s wings and applying oils and antiseptics and bandages afterwards. Time becomes a steady unfurling of white bandages and blood. I keep myself busy by combing the knots out of my mate’s hair with my fingers; anything I can to ensure he knows, even in sleep that I’m here. I wish I could do more.

The Healer’s eyes are rimmed with dark circles by the time he’s done, the strain of that much magic clearly taking a toll. 

White bandages cover every inch of Azriel’s wings, and there’s more along his back, sticky from the oils. There’s not enough skin left to be stitched back together, the wounds will have to be cleaned and dressed over and over until they can heal on their own. A thought that makes me shutter. They need to be somewhere clean to avoid infection at all costs. It’ll be months before they’re able to fight again. Months before they’re able to be up and moving at all. And I know that it’s months we don’t have. 

I have to find a way to buy them time.

I toss the Healer the first round of coin. He’ll get the full amount once he’s done with each of them, to ensure he’ll properly comply with my many demands. I’m going to need a lot more to bribe him to do this daily if I can’t find a way to get them back to the River House. 

“This is a whole lot of work for a couple of slaves,” the Healer grumbles. 

It takes everything in me not to blow the roof off the place. 

---

Joining my Father for dinner is surely a mistake, but I don’t see what other choice I have. Besides, it’s not like I can go home. Not without being drugged again. 

The Emperor lounges on plush pillows, propped up by scantly dressed servants and fanned with palm fronds by others. There’s a feast large enough to feed the city spread out before them, barely touched as he focuses all his attention on a plate of roasted chicken and a never ending supply of wine. 

My cousins join him today, on his left, reclining against each other. Brannagh eyes me with enough contempt to remind me that the last we’d spoken directly, I’d accused her of sleeping with Dagdan. The fact that his throat is littered with hickeys does nothing to prove me wrong. 

Amarantha arrives after we’ve started, huffing an excuse about dealing with a prison riot.

The five of us make a sorry excuse for company. Dagdan won’t stop rambling one nonsense story after the other, most of which annoy Amarantha so badly she has no choice but to dispute his claims. There’s little room for the rest of us to get a word in.

I have not missed these. 

The food sits heavy in my stomach; all I can think about is how I had to bribe the Guard to ensure my mates even got a meal, should they wake up to eat it after the amount of mirthroot it took to get them comfortable. Rhys had finished off the bottle of wine before the Healer was done. 

“I tell you the male ripped the beast a part with his bare hands!” Dagdan finishes. I don’t know what the rest of the story was, I’d tuned him out, filling the noise in my skull with my second wine glass of the evening. 

The Emperor seemed surprised by my visit, but he hasn’t said a word about it yet, despite the way those slate gray eyes watch my every move.

“I can assure you, he didn’t,” Amarantha counters. “Leon has got to be the worst Gladiator Beron has ever produced in those grimy little Pits he runs in Autumn.”

“You haven’t been to those Pits in some time,” Dagdan refutes. “They are much better run than they used to be.”

“You sink too much money into false hopes, boy,” the Emperor chastises, but his gaze remains fixed on me when he speaks. 

“None as much as my dear cousin,” Dagdan sneers. 

“I’m sure you’ve nearly drained your purse on those brutes by now,” Brannagh says with a laugh.

Amarantha eyes me curiously. 

“My purse is fine,” I say dismissively, hoping to end this conversation here and now.

“How are your little pets?” Amarantha presses. 

I absently stab at a piece of roasted vegetable. Telling her their actual condition might leave room for her to try and do something to them; lying might send someone down to confirm my story. “Recovering,” I say, trying to find a middle ground between the two. “I’ll be lucky if the Shadowsinger can fly after this.”

“Wouldn’t have happened if he hadn’t cheated,” Father says as one of his serving girls wipes a bit of wine out of his greying beard.

“It’s going to cost me a lot to fix, is all,” I say, using the excuse of biting my food to hide the way my jaw tenses. 

“I heard you were down there with them this morning,” he inquires.

Amarantha places her elbows on the table as she leans forward like she might miss this new bit of gossip.

Beside me, Dagdan frowns about being forgotten so quickly.

“I was.” I take another sip of wine to hide how dry my mouth suddenly feels. “It was fairly easy in the state they were in to convince them I had defied you to see them. I’d say their trust in me is fully cemented. They’ll start telling me things soon enough.”

“I want to know what Rhysand had planned after taking Illyria from me,” the Emperor says. It’s by far the closest he’s ever come to trusting me with political matters. “Surely he couldn’t have intended to push us out of the territory alone. His fighting men are strong, but it’s not enough of an army. He had to have been planning on aid from somewhere.”

I nod as I chew on another bite of food, pretending to think it over.

“His men have revealed nothing,” Amarantha sighs as she stabs at her plate with more force than necessary. “We’ve had to get creative with our methods to get them to talk and even under duress their… loyalty,” she spits out the word like its poison, “has won out.”

My chest constricts. Were the crucifixions not creative enough? Was making them walk here, chained and naked and beaten from Illyria not enough? We were torturing them now too?

“I can always put my talents to use,” Brannagh offers, tapping a manicured nail against her forehead. 

“Maybe they don’t know,” I offer. “Rhysand is secretive, allusive even to me. Maybe he held that card close to the vest for their protection.” I don’t like putting him directly in the line of fire, but I know what he would do if he was here, what he would offer to keep Brannagh’s hands off his men. All of them would offer themselves as a target to keep them safe. I can act for them in this.

“Give me a few more days, let me see what I can get out of him before you resort to that.”

“Awfully protective of these Illyrians, aren’t we?” Amarantha accuses.

“I’m merely thinking of the losses,” I counter. 

What was it my Father had always said? “A slave is more expensive to replace than to keep alive.”

To which the male raises his cup in salute before downing it in one gulp. The wine is quickly refilled.

“For once you were paying attention,” he praises.

The food sits heavier in my stomach. For so long that was all I’d ever wanted, for him to be proud of me, for him to see that I was trying my hardest to be the daughter he needed to me. I’d craved the faintest scrap of his attention for so long it had nearly destroyed me. To hear it now, to see what I would have had to become to earn it…

This whole Empire is a poison. It ruins everything it touches. 

“Brannagh, Dagdan, you may leave us.”

The twins look surprised by the sudden shift in conversation. Surely they thought they were going to be given an opportunity.

“But-”

He waves a hand at them. “We have matters to discuss that don’t concern you. Go. I’ll send for you if I need you.”

Brannagh grits her teeth as she stands, her eyes, the same shade as my Father’s narrowed in on me as if this is my fault. I supposed, in my absence, she’s gotten used to standing in my place, to being recognized. With me here now, there’s not as much room. The admiration of the Empire can only hold so many people. I fear I’ve made a bigger enemy out of her than I meant to.

Dagdan’s mouth opens and closes like he might say something, then thinks better of it. After his drunken outburst yesterday he knows he doesn’t have the sway he needs to be here.

They leave with their arms linked together, like the weight of the dismissal is too much for them to carry alone.

The glare Brannagh throws over her shoulder as the doors start to close tells me I need to be aware of just how many enemies I’m making these days.

“I need to make sure you are prepared for this task you’ve set out to do,” Father says once they’re gone.

My heart stutters in my chest. “What do you mean?”

“This information will not just come to you, if you intend to appeal to this bond they think they have with you and get the information we need, you need to make some… adjustments.”

Amarantha watches me over the rim of her glass.

“What are you suggesting?”

“Torture clearly won’t work,” he explains. “And it would ruin this trust they have in you. You need to be more persuasive in your approach, I think.”

“The faster we have results, the easier to deal with this mess will be,” Amarantha adds.

“And you’re in a… unique position.”

I don’t rub my temples like I want to. “Speak plainly, please.”

“Seduce them.”

I accidentally drop my fork, the clang of it hitting the plate deafening in the wide space.

“It's what they want from you anyway, what a mating bond demands happen. If you can convince them that you’re as desperate to be with them as they are you, they’ll tell you more readily. More secrets have been spilled in bed chambers than in temples.”

“Plenty of sponsors reap the benefits of their champions anyway, it would not be out of the norm,” Amarantha shrugs.

Bile rises in my throat. “Aren’t you still in the process of marrying me off?” 

“Romulus is intrigued by you, but he will not ask for your hand while you are tied to them. You ruined that chance.” He takes another long drink of wine, clearly displeased with that fact. “Tamlin and Eris are still competing, but what they don’t know won’t hurt them.”

I take another long drink of wine. “I’ll need them returned to my care at the River House. Attempting to do anything in the Arena barracks could lend ear to gossip and that could poorly affect a marriage proposal.”

“You can take Rhysand back, not all three of them.”

Any sort of excitement that I’d managed to actually pull this off fades in an instant. 

“They’ve proven that being together is dangerous.”

“They are not fools, they will see through this arrangement,” I try to argue, but he cuts me off with a raised hand.

“You have proven to be equally as unpredictable and I need assurances that you are not playing me just as you are them. I know what a bond is capable of, I have seen plenty of children turn on their parents for a mate. Prove yourself useful with Rhysand and then perhaps I will find a usefulness for the others. Until that time, they stay with the other gladiators.”

“They need a clean environment to heal if you are to keep them as gladiators.”

“This is not a debate. It is a test. You’ve revealed a weakness in yourself. Show me it isn’t one.”

“There are plenty of other ways for us to get results if you’re incapable,” Amarantha says with a shrug. “I don’t personally think you’re capable of separating your feelings on the matter, but I’m eager to sit back and watch it burn.”

My cheeks burn but I bite my tongue.

“I’ll get the results we need when you fail.”

“I won’t fail,” I say through my teeth. 

But it’s certainly going to take a lot more than I’d anticipated to play this Game, and play it correctly. Hell, I still have to find a way to get this to work around Anise! And manage to go back and forth between the House and here to ensure Azriel and Cassian are safe.

I don’t rub the tension headache building in my temples. I don’t let the mask slip. I raise my glass in mock toast to my Father. “Here’s to ensuring the safety of the Empire.” The wine helps the unease lodged in my throat go down a little easier. I’m going to need a lot more before this is done.

--------

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